The End Is Only The Beginning
by LittleShush
Summary: Decisions had been made, actions had been taken. Everyone involved had one thing in common. They all said it was over. But, decisions and actions have consequences, for as one door closes, another must surely open. Series of connected one shots.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello all :D**

**Firstly, let me say a huge thank you to anyone who has taken the time to click on the link for this. I know the summary was particularly vague, but then the whole ficlet is really.**

**So just a quick note to you all, this is the first part of a much bigger project. One that has literally been ongoing and in my head for well over a year, unfortunately, when Scorpia Rising was released (And yes, this does contain spoilers, so if you haven't read it yet, I recommend you click the back button very quickly.) it caused more than a **_**few **_**major problems.**

**All of which, the brilliant Speechbubble listened too and helped me to resolve after a particularly long and definitely more than a little frustrated message I sent to her. Lol.**

**I won't go into them here, as they are now obsolete, but this ficlet is the outcome of those problems. **

**It can be read as mostly standalone one shots, but within the set there is a vague hint of a storyline...somewhere.**

**Please feel free to point out any mistakes, either spelling or punctuation, that you pick up on. Constructive criticism is always welcome here :) and I would love to hear your own interpretations of the one shots. I've (hopefully) managed to write them as a little vague for each person to be able to interpret them differently, and I would love to hear your views.**

**Anyways on with the one shots, and thank you again for reading, :D**

**Shush x**

**Title: ** The End Is Only The Beginning.

**Summary:** After Cairo, decisions had been made, actions had been taken. Everyone involved had one thing in common. They all said it was over. But, decisions and actions have consequences, for as one door closes, another must surely open. Series of connected one-shots from various perspectives.

**Warnings:** Language, Scorpia Rising spoilers

**Rated:** T

**Disclaimer: **I'm awaiting a call from Anthony Horowitz's lawyers to discuss terms. They promised me they'd get back to me in May 2007.

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><p><em>"...In everybody's life there is a point of no return. And in a very few cases, a point where you can't go forward anymore. And when we reach that point, all we can do is quietly accept that fact. That's how we survive."<em>

_**Haruki Murakami**_

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><p><em>Brown eyes snapped open as a crash sounded from another area in the house. Alex stared at the ceiling for a second, listening intently for another sound to ring out in the silent building. There were none for a moment and he glanced to his window. Even through the curtains were closed, he could see the orange glow of the nearest streetlamp. It was still night.<em>

_He didn't attempt to move when he heard a soft footstep by his bed._

_A hand clapped over his mouth roughly, and it muffled his surprised yell. Instead he kicked his legs, tossing the duvet to the floor and fully intending to lash out at the attacker, before he felt a hand clamp down over both of his ankles effectively pinning him in place. He was about to raise his hands, in an attempt to fend off his attacker when he saw cool blue eyes looking back at him, piercing in their intensity._

_There was a silent message sent to him in that gaze._

Don't say a word. Don't move. Do exactly as I say.

_Alex nodded slowly, the hand being removed from his mouth. But before he had a chance to ask what was going on, he felt a pair of hands scoop up his small frame and move towards his bedroom door._

_Soft padding footsteps were the only sound he heard as he was carried out of his bedroom, the man's grip on him was tight, so tight it almost hurt. Alex could hear whispered voices downstairs, and he held back the wince from the man's grip tightening on him further._

_He was carried silently without alerting whoever the men were, into the next room along. His eyes widened in surprise. He was never allowed in here. For a second he opened his mouth to question, before he remembered his captors silent warning. He snapped his mouth closed as the man holding him crouched. Alex turned to look, but the angle was awkward. His face was effectively mashed into the man's chest._

_There was a light metallic clank, and Alex struggled. It wasn't a natural sound. He didn't like where it was leading, he was getting desperate now, he didn't like being kept in the dark and the tense atmosphere __wasn't __helping._

_Alex felt his back hit something cold and metallic as he was practically thrown into a sitting position, he winced as the cold touched his skin where his pyjama top had ridden up. There was a flurry of movement in front of him as one of the men yelled._

_"I got him!"_

_Alex pushed himself to his feet, his captor smirked and pushed a single finger to his lips as if to shush him before a heavy metal door closed in front of his eyes._

_Alex lunged across the tiny, tiny room he had been placed in and slammed his fist against the door._

_"Oi," Alex yelled, his fist thumping the door that had been so unjustly slammed shut. "Lemme out!"_

_There was no response, and Alex continued to hammer against the door, paying no heed to the man's previous warning. Alex froze and felt a sheen of sweat form on his forehead as a loud bang echoed twice outside of the room he was in. He fell back to the floor, struggling to breath, his chest tightening._

_He knew that sound. He had heard it before._

_Alex listened intently for any further noise, counting away the seconds silently in his mind. But the longer the silence drew on, the more he felt panic rise in his chest. Soon he felt tears forming, and he clenched his eyes closed._

_He would not cry. He wouldn't._

_But the tears came anyway, and he pulled his legs up to his body, wrapping his arms around his knees as he muffled his sobs in his knees. He tried to push himself back, wanting to disappear into the wall behind him as the door was opened. Bright light spilling into the previously dark prison he had been held in. Two hands reached in to grab him, and he kicked out, one foot connecting with the man's wrist. The sob that he had been muffling behind his knees escaping as he moved, and there was a light irritated growl from in front of him._

_"Get out here, Alex."_

_Alex shook his head, as blue flashes lit the room up from the window. He still didn't move. Instead he just pulled his knees up and ducked his head onto them, not wanting the man to see him cry. The man stood imposingly outside his only way of escape as there were frantic footsteps from the hall, and the door to the room was thrown open._

_"Ian!" Alex let out a sigh as the familiar voice sounded through the room, "Where's Alex?"_

_"In here." The response was curt, and Alex flinched when thought he heard a small amount of disappointment in his tone. "He won't come out when I tell him too."_

_There was a slight scuffle outside of __his __little room, and Alex tried to smother his sobs as best he could. Jack Starbright's face appeared in the opening, her long curls concealing half her face as she ducked down a little to look at him._

_"Hi Al," she said softly. Alex swiped his hand across his nose and sniffled slightly,_

_"'Ello Jack." He managed, it sounded watery, even to his inexperienced ears, but she smiled anyway._

_"You going to come out here?" she said, her boyish face lit with a small smile. One that Alex had become accustomed too, even though she had only been living with them for a few months. He shook his head, and she lowered herself to the floor._

_"Why not?" she asked, Alex took a breath before speaking._

_"I heard a gun. Like on TV." He mumbled, he only said it quietly. He knew how angry Ian got when he acted like this_

_"Well," she said slowly, looking around exaggeratedly, a funny expression on her face. "There's no one out here now with a gun."_

_Alex spared a glance to Ian, who was stood with his arms crossed to Jack's side and he bit his lip, before leaning forwards. Jack smiled and copied the movement, when they were close enough Alex stopped._

_"I was scared." He whispered, casting a sheepish look at Ian. Jack's disposition didn't change, instead her smile softened,_

_"Do you remember what I said," she whispered back. Alex raised one pale eyebrow, "When you woke up from your nightmare last month,"_

_"After the film?"_

_"Yes." Jack responded, still whispering. Alex nodded slowly, a slight sniffle and a watery smile on his face as he held his hands up in front of him in a circle._

_"My space. My space alone, were I can be what I want and think what I want. No one can hurt me here, in my bubble." Alex replied, his voice was louder now as he started to calm. Jack nodded slowly, and she held out a hand cautiously._

_"So, you going to come out now?"_

_Alex hesitated, before reaching out his own small hand and grabbing hers. Slowly she helped him out, before picking him up easily, he was quite small for a six year old and she rested him against her hip. Alex looked at Ian, the man's piercing blue eyes looked at the pair with a stern gaze, before he gave a strained smile._

_"Back to bed, Alex." Ian said, his tone wasn't soft. Alex just nodded mutely, "I need a word with you, Jack .When Alex is in bed."_

_"Fine." Jack responded, Alex looked between the pair with a nervous glance as they started a small battle of wits, before Jack strode out of the room with Alex in her grasp. She tucked him into bed, careful to adjust the covers just the way he liked it, before flicking on the night light that Ian had forgotten to turn on before. Alex frowned slightly as she headed for the door without another word,_

_"Jack." Alex said quietly, she turned to look at him, her red hair seeming to glow slightly in the faint light, "How was your date?"_

_"I'll tell you in the morning. Now go to sleep." Jack replied, Alex nodded slowly and scooted down under the covers. He listened as her footsteps disappeared downstairs and wished for sleep to come. Before it had the chance there were raised voices from downstairs. Well, one raised voice that he recognised. Jack's. He never heard Ian raise his voice. Ever._

_It only lasted a few minutes, before he heard a set of footsteps climbing the stairs once again. Alex shut his eyes, feigning sleep and pulling the duvet over his head. He heard his door creak open slightly, and knew it wasn't Jack. She wasn't as quiet when she checked up on him._

_Alex started slightly when he felt his bed dip, and he resisted the urge to poke his head out and look at his uncle. He knew somehow he had done something wrong from the man's stern gaze earlier._

_"Alex." Ian said with a sigh, "I know you're not asleep."_

_Alex slowly eased his body up, his head poking out of the top of the duvet._

_"How'd you know?"_

_"You never sleep with your head under the duvet." Ian replied calmly. Alex nodded, wondering just how many times the man had checked up on him at night to recognise that trait, before he sat himself upright, eyes downcast to the duvet._

_"What were you and Jack arguing about?"_

_"Nothing, Alex." Ian replied calmly, his gaze didn't move from Alex and he took a deep breath, "We were __talking__ about what happened, and the um, bubble theory."_

_"Oh," Alex flushed red. He had made Jack promise not to tell Ian about that little episode, and Alex, even though he was young, really didn't think Ian would have approved of his being scared of something as silly as a nightmare. His uncle gave an uncertain smile,_

_"Does it help?" Ian asked. Alex looked serious for a second, his face screwed up in concentration before he nodded slowly._

_"It makes me brave, if I think people can't get to me."_

_There was a long pause, and Alex watched as Ian seemed to work through a thought process._

_"People can still hurt you Alex, if they wanted." Ian said slowly. Alex stared at him for a second, before he nodded. He knew that anyway, and the smile Ian gave him was an understanding one. "What they can't do is demean you, if you show no fear when faced with danger."_

_"You're talking about me crying." Alex said quietly, his eyes fixated themselves on the duvet once again and he picked at it. He __knew __he had done something wrong. There was a quiet laugh and Alex looked up to see Ian looking at him with a certain fondness that was present only in moments like these, moments when it was just him and his Uncle with no outside interferences. Alex secretly relished in them._

_"Controlling that particular emotion is something that comes with both time and experience. Alex." Ian replied in a sage voice, with no hint of criticism. Alex nodded, a hesitant smile moving onto his face._

_Ian tapped the spot on the bed Alex had originally been laying in, the youth leant back down and pulled the duvet up under his chin as Ian grabbed the book from the bedside table._

_"Who were those men, Ian?" Alex asked quietly. The man paused in his movements, placing the book on his lap as he looked at the child led beside him._

_"Just people from work. We'll talk about it in the morning. Right now, it's story time." Alex just nodded, his uncle pulled open the book with gusto and Alex settled his head against the pillow. Ian took a deep breath and started to read, _

_"The Hardy Boys and the Sting of the Scorpion"_

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><p>Alex snapped open his eyes, and jerked his head forwards from its resting point against the plane seat. The sudden movement obviously caught Edward Pleasure's eye, as he looked at the young blonde with a quizzical expression. Alex forced a smile onto his face and picked up the bottle of water in front of him that had been presumably left by the stewardess.<p>

"You okay, Alex?" Edward Pleasure asked, Alex nodded and pretended to play with the cap of the bottle of water absentmindedly. His fingertips were, in fact, delicately checking the seal was still intact.

He couldn't be too careful.

"Fine. Just a little tired." He responded placidly. Edward nodded, giving him one last sceptical look before turning back to the paper he was reading. Alex took a long swig of the water, as he turned his head out of the window and he grasped at the lingering mental images of his dream. Only it wasn't a dream, it was a memory and one he hadn't thought of for a long time.

But much like any dream or nightmare you are loathe to enjoy, the smaller insignificant images were slipping through his fingers like grains of sand the harder he tried to clutch at them.

It had been like this the last two weeks, unexpected memories creeping up on him, making an appearance the only time he was vulnerable to them, the only time he couldn't fight them and _every damn time_ they caused a melancholic dip in his mood.

It was dark outside of the window, Alex presumed they were still flying across the Atlantic. He could feel the fleeting glances from his travelling companion, and he had to withhold a sigh, it had been the same since Mr Pleasure had picked him up from The Priory centre in the New Forest.

He was being treated like a ticking time bomb.

But, he wouldn't show them. True to both memory and form, the bubble theory had worked when he was younger. It still did, if the optimistic looks Edward had been giving him in response to his bravado, as they had walked through the airport in London, had been any indication.

Alex closed his eyes again, his lips twitching at the corners into a slight sardonic smile as he thought that maybe, just maybe, it hadn't been just Ian's influence that had helped him survive the last year.

It disappeared almost instantly as the unpleasant reminder that he was the _only_ one who had survived the last year, entered his mind.

He tried to lock down those thoughts, it made it all the harder to maintain his composure, and tried to look at the positive's from that event. Instead he found himself analysing and thinking about the recently re-acquired memory, understanding it in a way he never had before.

His thoughts tainted it, made it bleaker than it should have been.

Ian had whisked him and Jack off for a surprise holiday to Fiji the very next day.

Alex was an excited six year old, more interested in the exciting activities his uncle always had planned, than how Jack's date went.

He never found out who the mysterious men from work were either.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi All, :D**

**Firstly, let me say a thank you to everyone who reviewed, favourite and put this story on alert :). It really does make my day, when I open my inbox to e-mails jam-packed from . So a MASSIVe thank you to you all.**

**Secondly, I wasn't planning on updating until Saturday, but seeing as how it's nearly Christmas, I thought I'd give you a midweek update as well... Well, that, and the next multi-chapter fic is coming along nicely. **

**Alright, so for those of you who hadn't already worked this out. This is a series of connected one-shots. It includes most of the "key" characters from the books, plus everyone's favourite SAS team and a couple of OC's. There is a storyline when you read them together and it should set us up nicely for the multi-chapter I'm writing :)**

**So anyway, on with the next...**

**Shush x**

**Disclaimer:** I'm still awaiting for the rights to arrive. Maybe they got caught up with the Christmas post. :P

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><p>"<em>In all secrets there is a kind of guilt, however beautiful or joyful they may be, or for what good end they may be set to serve. Secrecy means evasion, and evasion means a problem to the moral mind."<em>

_**Gilbert Parker**_

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><p>Tulip Jones had her eyes closed as she rubbed her temples slowly, the strong black coffee to her right steaming and emitting an appealing aroma. It was early, but as she had learnt over the last two months, you had to be nothing but dedicated to fulfil this position.<p>

And so it turned out that she was sat behind her desk, in the same office she had used for the last seven years, with elbows mounted on the edge of the pine desk with a very big headache. She hadn't moved offices when she had taken over the position of Head of Special Operations. To her it seemed like a pointless act. The security precautions were, after all, identical on both rooms, it was only memories which made either of the blank cream walled rooms any different.

While Tulip, may not have been sentimental and may not portray emotion outwardly to a degree that should be expected, she did appreciate the strength of memory. It was that alone that kept her in this room.

She had tried to explain it away when she was first appointed the role following Blunt's departure, about how she was settled in her own office and saw no need to confuse things by moving.

It was a decision that had been frowned upon by her superiors. She could understand why, nostalgia and emotion within this role was strictly prohibited. It hindered future decision and clarity of thinking, which is _exactly_ why she was sat in this office at this time of morning.

She'd made a mistake.

It was bound to happen after Blunts dismissal that was covered over as a resignation.

She had jumped for the role. Even though she knew, somewhere in the back of her mind, that she wasn't ready for this particular job.

Yes, she had been a deputy for 7 years,

Yes, she had done her fair share of field work before getting the deputy position,

And yes, she had had enough dealings with other members of staff within the company to know how to get what she wanted from them.

But, the slight hint of compassion she had always managed to maintain while fulfilling her role as deputy was her downfall. She knew it, that was why she had developed a liking for peppermints while she served under Alan Blunt.

It had killed the stagnant taste that filled her mouth whenever she had sent an agent on an assignment she knew there was next to no chance to return from. It had eased the acrid burning in her throat whenever Blunt had insisted upon the use of a _child. _It had numbed her to the normal every day feelings she had had to let go of, to fulfil her duty in this line of work.

It was a habit she had promptly kicked after Blunts removal.

She had served her retribution by arranging for Alex's immigration to America, to be with people he knew, and to live a life he deserved. One that didn't involve violence, or threats, or adults that he was supposed to trust, using and manipulating him into situations he shouldn't even be aware of, let alone involved in.

From the moment she had watched on the monitors in Smithers' office, as the Virgin Atlantic plane took flight, she had spat out her last peppermint into the bin, and with it the relief that no longer would she be responsible for the damage to a fifteen year old teenager.

But in the two months that had followed since that moment, 2 month's of major upheaval within the Establishment, things had changed. Some things had gotten better others worse. But either way, the sense of un-established regime and general lack of organisation stood out like a sore thumb.

She wasn't willing to say she had failed. That was something she would never do.

It was a work in progress. A learning curve. A very big one.

For mistakes in this career, cost a lot.

A lot of respect. A lot of money. A lot of dignity. A lot of lives.

Her superiors were breathing down both her and her understudies necks. They wanted to see results. Ones that were at least on par with Alan Blunts. And this latest one, didn't match up to her own expectations, let alone that of the board.

There was a firm knock at the door on the other side of the room, and Tulip smoothed her shirt before opening the file in front of her.

"Come." She called, her voice was calm, placid. It denied all knowledge of her previous thoughts and as the door swung open to reveal a middle aged man, dressed in a tailored suit of charcoal with calm grey eyes, she nodded once in greeting.

He returned the greeting and strode confidently over to the chair on the opposite side of the desk. The files that occupied his arms looked heavy, but he didn't seem phased. She wasn't surprised. You didn't go through this man's career without some kind of physical strength as well as extreme mental stamina.

The files were placed on the desk, to one side and Mrs Jones picked up her phone. She didn't need to dial a number, she just waited while it rang once, it was picked up on the second.

"A coffee for Mr Demery . Normal order." she said curtly, eyeing the man as he took a seat in the plush emerald green chair on the opposite side of the desk. She hung up without waiting for a response, she knew it would be carried out as requested and there was a pause of silence before she spoke.

"Good Morning, Craig."

It was small talk, they both knew it. There was no need to delve into deeper conversation until the requested coffee had been delivered. An amused glint appeared in the grey eyes in front of her, and a small twitch of the lips accompanied it.

"Is it really, Tulip?" Craig asked, his tone was slightly rough. The light Welsh lilt to his accent, sounded almost condescending against the proper English pronunciation he pushed behind his words. It sounded more than a little strange to the practiced ear.

"I suppose not." She agreed, knowing what he was implying.

As her deputy, he would naturally already know of the repercussions from the recent attack on the Stella Anta cruise ship. It had made worldwide news, a siege of this degree hadn't happened since 1944. It had been carried out with all the ferocity of 9/11 and with the tact of a bull in a china shop.

Of course, it was only natural that she would have found out almost exactly 24 hours before the rest of the world. It had been Demery himself that had reported to her. His training with the SAS having paid off by providing a very swift and conclusive report, detailing everything she had needed to know in two neatly typed pages of text within an hour of the initial attack.

She had delegated to him the collation of intelligence surrounding the attack. And he had agreed, eager to get down to the job she herself had helped to pick him for. Her part was to decide why they had never picked up on the threat previously, when numerous agents had been assigned to detect cases of this scale and threat.

The door to the office opened with a quiet click and both occupants turned to look at the young receptionist as she walked in with a steaming mug of coffee. Silently it was placed down on the desk, and Demery gave her a warm smile,

"Thank you, Gloria." he spoke gently, and the woman's eyes almost popped out of her head at being addressed, as a red blush moved across her cheeks.

"Yes, sir." Gloria spoke quietly her eyes fixed to the ground and Mrs Jones watched the interaction with interest as her deputy frowned gently.

"It's Craig," he reminded gently, as he had done every day he had been present in this office since his start just the month prior. Gloria, if possible, turned even redder before scurrying from the office without another word. There was silence as the door swung closed and Demery turned to Mrs Jones with a bemused expression,

"A bit timid to be your secretary isn't she, Tulip?" He asked, there was an amused tone to his voice and she watched the hint of a smile on his face as he took a sip of the scolding liquid. Mrs Jones was reminded of one of the only concerns she had raised against him in the final review stages of the interviews.

Demery was a people person, he had proved it throughout his long career in the SAS. She had seen it herself in the secondments he had provided to Special Operations when it had been called for, reporting directly to her and Blunt on more than one occasion.

This job would strip him of that and any sense of humour he received from interaction would slowly wane, as he realised he would be sending people to death, rather than saving them as he had done prior.

As she had learned the hard way, life didn't look so light-hearted when you were the Grim Reaper.

The silence obviously stretched on for longer than she had thought, as Demery cleared his throat and grabbed the uppermost file on the stack he had bought in. He flipped it open and scanned the first page quickly before placing it on the desk to face her, in a readable position.

"We got the final casualty report," he explained, his voice was serious once again. Mrs Jones shook herself and raked her eyes over the list in front of her as he spoke, "Of the 239 passengers on board. The SBS were able to recover 71 hostages. Giving us a total 29% civilian survival rate. There were no remaining members of the crew."

Mrs Jones took this in with no emotion, she had been expecting it to be bad. In the aftermath of the Scorpia downfall, there were small tussles working throughout the criminal underground. Each individual cell vying for some sort of upper hand against the others, but something of this scale was surprising, perhaps even horrifying.

"Do we know who it was?" She asked in a professional tone. Demery shook his head,

"We have nothing to suggest it was anything other than a rather rag tag band of pirates that got lucky."

"But-"

"It looks a lot bigger than that." Demery agreed before she could finish. Mrs Jones nodded and took a drink of her own coffee.

"Is there any way it could have been a cover. We had agent's working on some of the larger organisations we were aware of." It was a shot in the dark and Demery shook his head, looking solemn.

"Not as far as the evidence suggests. The IRA appear to be keeping a low profile, their activites are limited to simple thievery and recruitment at the moment. They may be gearing for something big in the future, but this definitely wasn't them. Richards reported back that all was quiet on that front just last week."

"Right."

"Colson came back with the same report for the NDL, no major action, and Matthews report from China was hardly worth reading at all. It would appear the Yakuza cells are sticking to strictly internal affairs at the moment." Demery finished with another sip of his coffee. Mrs Jones looked at him with an interested gaze,

"What about the African continent. Have we looked there?" She asked, as she leant back in her chair. She really didn't need to see any further names of the deceased or injured. Another file was pushed in front of her and she scanned through the paragraph as Demery explained once again,

"A lot of the action based there, was in fact Scorpia supplied. By taking then down it would appear we have halted a lot of the flow of work into the area." Demery smirked slightly, "It would appear the legendary Alex Rider helped a lot more than we could have expected,"

Mrs Jones snapped her eyes up to look at him, the streak of defensiveness she felt rip through her was for a moment uncontrollable. But she didn't get where she was without self restraint, when she spoke her voice was tense. She could tell from his face, it was picked up on.

"It certainly seems so."

Demery held his hands up with a tilted smile, "I don't want to start a debate with you. It just would have been nice to meet the guy, that's all."

Mrs Jones took a deep breath, and nodded curtly. She really needed to stop getting worked up over Alex. It was going to earn her quite the reputation otherwise.

She'd had to go against opinions of her higher up's to send Alex away in the first place. While they had been prepared for him not to work, they weren't that keen on providing him to the authorities Stateside either.

She pulled the next file from the pile to her side, noting it was the thickest of the set and the uncomfortable silence reigned for a few seconds,

"This?" She asked, expecting Demery to have picked up on her silent cue. He peered over to look at the cover of the file, and with good grace she allowed him a moment to mentally recollect himself. She had been in his position before, and she begrudgingly admitted he was dealing a fair bit better then she had in her fist few months with Blunt. Maybe, even, better than she dealt with the first few years with the previous head.

"Opinions, complaints and advisory's." Demery commented with a dismissive wave of the hand, she took a deep breath before pulling open the file. This was the information she detested the most.

It was, quite simply, pages and pages of advice and complaints by people who didn't have a clue what they were talking about. The public concerns over safety that occurred after every event, minor or major, the press stories yet to be released that questioned their integrity. She bypassed both of these, it was something that could be condensed and would be within the day before being presented in a consolidated case by someone of lesser stature.

She stopped when she reached the advisory's. Reading through the first of a fairly large sheaf of paper, she could almost imagine the receptionist's frantic typing as they were dictated to by the Advisor's to the Director's of the board.

She had once been in that position herself, believing she was actually making a difference by contributing to the opinions that took form in these little notes. She had learned quickly after her move to Special Operations, that more often than not, these opinions were archived and ignored until they were transferred to an encrypted database with vague, non-descript notes attached to each in review. The paper copies were shredded and the computer files kept only in case of legality.

She placed the first to one side and picked up the second, Demery sat silent and patient in front of her. Judging by his previous efficiency, she assumed he had already read through and memorised at least some of the details that were the more poignant.

"Your collections from this?" She asked as she continued to read. There was a long pause, that made her stop, and lift her eyes from the piece of paper to look at his face. His grey eyes were boring into hers when he spoke.

"There are a lot of questions, Tulip." He said slowly, his voice was slow and deliberate. She nodded curtly and placed the piece of paper back down, her deduction about him reading the items evidently correct.

"Regarding?"

"Alex Rider and his position. Blunt's involvement." Demery explained, he didn't really need to say anymore. It had caused controversy amongst the entire hierarchy of Special operations. From the highest director down to the lowliest receptionist, suffice to say they had tendered more resignations in the last month, than the whole previous year. "They are looking for a scapegoat."

"They had one in Alan Blunt." Mrs Jones responded tersely. Demery nodded, an understanding look on his face as he gestured to the advisories.

"They are evidently looking for more. It split the board, but collectively they are expecting more of the Establishment to make up for it." Demery stopped for a second and looked thoughtful, "We haven't seen an event like this since the American's in September the 11th. A lot of the board has surmised that if more attention had been paid to Al Quedah's actions prior to that it could have been averted."

"We have already deduced that this was a freak attack," Mrs Jones countered, Demery nodded shortly,

"Yes. But they are insistent it could be part of something much bigger, the same conclusion we came too ourselves. It could be related back to its trigger. If we could just-"

Mrs Jones, placed both hands on the desk in front of her, silently wondering if she was ever going to professionally outlive this particular shadow before she took a deep breath.

"I am not bringing Alex Rider back into this Demery," She stated firmly and she hoped she had imagined the faint hint of disappointment that moved across his face. "You, having known both John and Ian, even for the limited time you did should be more thankful for that than most."

This time she could practically see the defensiveness on his face at the remark. She made a mental note to bring it up in his first quarterly review. It was something that needed to be concealed in other agents, but quickly his face was back to being professional, albeit it fairly more cheerful than her own.

"That's not what I was suggesting, Tulip." He responded curtly, and with an affirming nod from her he started to explain his course of action. She listened with half an ear as she placed the advisory letters back with the other papers. She placed it to one side, and saw open on her desk below it the list of civilian's names that were affected by the attack.

If she had looked just a little more closely, paid a little more attention to the information in front of her she might not have made her second mistake.

If she hadn't had been so concentrated on her own guilt at Alex's involvement, she might have seen a name nestled in that list that would have been glaringly obvious.

Instead, she was wishing she hadn't of thrown away the half packet of peppermints two months ago.


	3. Chapter 3

**Good Morning all :)**

**Just a quick AN to wish everyone a Very Merry Christmas and a happy New Year. Hope you get everything you asked Santa for this year and enjoy the fab food and overly tacky decorations that this time of year always brings around.**

**Anyways, a thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, I know Mrs Jones isn't always a well loved character, but it was only fair to see how she was getting on after Alex's departure. :P**

**So, this is the last update this week and from now on there will be one a week, each Saturday. Yes, that does mean this whole piece is completed, and I would post it quicker but I'm using the time working on my next fic. Please forgive me for withholding chapters for a whole seven days lol. **

**Right, well hopefully enjoy this one and I'll see you all in a week!**

**Take care all, **

**Shush x**

**Disclaimer:** I won't find out until tomorrow if I get what I asked Santa for, until then, I own nothing.

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><p>"<em>Be slow to fall into friendship,<em>

_But when thou art in,_

_Continue firm and constant."_

_**Socrates**_

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><p>His footsteps thumped against the ground as he ran.<p>

Heavy breaths heaved from between his lips as he pushed himself to run faster.

Not looking back, as the first sensations of cramp ran up his calf muscles.

He jumped, reaching for the edge of the barrier that would signal the end of this.

His fingers slipped slightly on cold steel, damp from the drizzle that always seemed to fall.

His arm right arm twinged as he pulled his body weight up and over the edge, not hesitating as he dropped down the other side and landed with a soft thud.

Quickly, he sprang up to his feet from the crouch and ducked his head, pushing himself to sprint the final distance so he could finally stop.

Just when he thought his legs were going to give out, he saw in the corner of his eye the marker and a loud cheer pierced his consciousness.

"Way to go, Fox!" Eagle yelled, his face in its characteristic smile, as the sergeant beside him wrote down Ben's time on the clipboard in his grasp.

Ben immediately slowed to a light walk, stretching painful muscles as he moved before ducking and resting both palms flat against his knees to catch his breath. He was drenched, the green army t-shirt clinging to his skin from the everlasting rain in the Welsh highlands, and the bottoms of his trousers caked in mud from the recently run assault course. He heard two sets of approaching footsteps, wiping away the sheen of sweat that had taken residence on his brow, before going back to concentrating on slowing his breathing.

A pair of boots came into his line of sight, and he recognised by the slight marking on the left toecap it was Snake's. He still didn't look up, not quite prepared to move yet, and a bottle of water was lowered in front of his face.

Ben laughed, and looked up to see Snake with an expectant look on his face. He nodded and took the proffered bottle of water, still the blonde medic watched him.

"Keep moving, Fox." Snake advised, Ben gave him a patronising look, but didn't ignore the advice as he started to walk in circles, careful to try to ease the cramp out of the back of his calf's. He took a swig of his water, before absentmindedly rubbing at his right arm where the twinge had occurred. He forgot for a moment he was being monitored by the other two.

"Giving you jip?" Eagle asked quietly, Ben turned his head quickly with a frown and dropped his gaze to look at where his hand was resting over the top of the old wound.

"Nah. Just phantom pain." Ben replied nonchalant, it was true. It wasn't a nagging pain in the slightest, and in his opinion the SAS had insisted on more than adequate physiotherapy for it when he returned. In fact, Ben would go as far to say that the care he had received had been excessive, but he never vocalised that, he had been too glad to be back in familiar territory.

"Alright." Snake replied with his normal gentle smile, "Get's any worse let me know. I'll sort you some Codydramol."

Ben nodded, glad it wasn't being pushed. Not that he had expected it to be, this was _his _unit. They knew him probably better than he knew himself at times. Well, mostly anyway.

There were three things they didn't talk about now. It was like unwritten rules for being part of the unit.

Family had been discussed once. But it was left unspoken after they had achieved background information about each other, just enough to build a trust and comradeship between the four of them.

Solitary assignments were another un-discussable. For the most part they were classified anyway, and hearing of a unit members potential peril in a situation the others could do nothing about, proved to be a difficult topic, especially for Wolf.

And the final unspeakable, was most definitely a _big _no go area. And if in the off chance it was ever mentioned _it _was ignored. Ben wasn't sure if it was good thing or not, following his experiences.

"Fox," the sergeant called as he walked towards the group, "Good time. 14.23. Glad to see that stint at Spec Ops didn't turn you lazy."

"No, sir." Ben replied easily, the sergeant nodded curtly and eyed the group with a smirk,

"Wolf's run is due after this one. Viewing platform is free."

"Are we that predictable?" Eagle asked with a lopsided grin. Ben took a drink of his water as the sergeant laughed, he gestured at the full bottle of water in Snake's hand,

"You guys watch out for each other," The sergeant replied, "An established unit as the higher up's might say."

Ben laughed at the Sergeant's blunt, but playful tone and watched as he walked away. Snake let out a huff of laughter,

"You can tell he's a selection sergeant." Snake murmured.

"Far too nice." Ben agreed with a smile. Eagle grinned,

"Well, you have to be when the school boys come out to play. They need someone to hold their hand for at least the first day." Eagle remarked as the three made their way to the wooden viewing platform that stood to one side of the 4 kilometre assault course.

There was a moments uncomfortable silence between the three of them as the comment sunk in, and Ben felt it hit the mark a little too close to that third unspeakable. The surge of mixed emotions, that he had last experienced in Australia came back full force and Ben had to force them back below the surface.

"Except Cub." Snake muttered. Ben grimaced, and thanked whichever deity was looking over him that Wolf was at the start of the assault course preparing for his run, rather than here.

Ben had wondered to himself, upon his return to the SAS after his secondment, if Wolf knew more than he let on about Alex. Whenever Special Operations or Cub was brought up, it seemed to bring out his most vile temper. Wolf would sit sullen through any conversation involving either, eventually snapping in a conversation and towards the most unsuspecting person.

Ben almost outwardly cringed as he remembered the last unit that had said anything on the topic. Gull had had a black eye for almost three days after that combat session.

Eagle seemed to realise his mistake, as he audibly gulped and cast the other two a weary glance,

"Sorry." Eagle mumbled, his mood unusually sombre and Ben offered him a half smile.

"Just be glad Wolf isn't here." Snake joked lightly. It was said in a tense voice but Ben laughed anyway, it was so close to his own train of thought it just reflected how close they had come over there year and a half together.

"Yeah, Eagle." Ben added, his eyes catching onto the others with a grin, "Remember, Gull?"

Eagle groaned,

"My hands definitely do, they were red raw after the mess duty we received for Wolf loosing it."

That was all it took for the matter to be forgotten. Ben felt as thoughts assaulted him, closely echoing sentiments of past, and especially the ones of guilt that had plagued him in the hospital in Darwin. But it seemed, the further he moved away from that assignment in Australia, the more anger driven they became on the rare occasion Alex's name was mentioned.

In a companionable silence, they reached the platform and were climbing the stairs as the klaxon sounded through the fog, announcing the start of Wolf's run. Eagle sprinted up the last couple of steps and eagerly took a spot next to the barrier to watch his unit leaders run and yell encouragement to him as he passed. Ben smiled and looked to Snake,

"Did he do that for mine too?" Ben asked, Snake nodded solemnly,

"I don't think he's quite grasped the fact that you can't hear him from up here." Snake whispered in response. Ben laughed and took up a spot to Eagle's side, Snake taking the other as the red haired man's cheering got louder. Ben just watched as the shortest of the team, made his way across each obstacle with an agility and grace that seemed to come out of nowhere. Ben smiled to himself as Wolf made his way over one of the walls with a little more difficulty due to his height, having to take a second approach to one as he misjudged his footing. Snake appeared to be thinking the same because he chuckled slightly,

"He won't be happy with that." Snake muttered softly, Ben nodded and gestured to the stairs as Wolf disappeared into the fog after the small part of the course they could actually see. Snake headed towards the stairs first, as Eagle turned and clapped Ben on the back.

"I think you may have got him this time, mate." The red haired man stated, Ben grinned in response.

It had been his aim since being placed with his unit to beat Wolf's time on the assault course. It was something he had yet to achieve, and it had become an ongoing joke between the four of them, that even with his extra 10 inches height, it still remained that Wolf was, as yet, unbeaten. Snake had joked a few months prior, that his victory would be the high point of his SAS career and he should retire after.

They had all laughed at that.

"We'll see, come on." Ben replied with an easy smile. The pair descended the stairs to find Snake patiently waiting at the bottom, together they started the short jog back to the end of the course. Eagle took up his spot beside the sergeant once again, the superior giving him a bemused look as Wolf came into view.

"Twenty quid says Fox does it this time, Snake." Eagle called. Snake smirked and nodded slightly, Ben arranged his features into a disappointed face and the Scottish man grinned unashamedly at him.

"What?"

"You have no faith in me, Snake." Ben sighed,

"Nope." Wolf supplied breathlessly as he jogged towards the pair, his face was red and his clothes much in the same state as Ben's own as he slowed to a purposeful walk. "I'm just better than you."

"Piss off," Ben replied with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. Wolf held out his hand for the expected bottle of water and Snake provided it quickly. Their unit leader took a long slug of the drink as he walked around them for a second, following the same routine Ben had.

"Where's Eagle?" Wolf asked gruffly, once he had caught his breath enough to talk without having to take gulps of air between words. Ben shrugged and Snake looked over to the Sergeant with a smirk. The tall red haired man was peering over his shoulder as he was writing, Ben and Wolf both turned to look.

"Poor bloke." Wolf grunted,

"Should we go save him?" Ben asked,

"Yeah. Sarge seems alright and there aren't that many of them around." Snake answered, as he started walking towards the pair. The three made their way across the damp grass, towards Eagle who was talking animatedly to the Sergeant. The man was pointedly ignoring him.

"Come on, one second." Eagle pleaded, Ben shared a look with Wolf and both their paces quickened slightly until they came to stand directly behind their overenthusiastic teammate.

"What's going on?" Ben muttered, Snake apparently was just managing to hold his composure and a loud laugh escaped his mouth.

"They can't tie!" Eagle insisted, still gesturing wildly, "It's just not possible. Give Fox just one little second."

"Eagle-" Ben managed, the red haired man turned to look at him with a devastated face.

"Fox, it was a tie! Could you not shift your ass just a little bit faster?" Eagle asked. Ben looked at Wolf, before the pair both laughed, "Seriously, Snake will try to wiggle his way out of the bet by saying you didn't win!"

"But I didn't." Ben replied with a smile, he turned to Wolf. "Good run."

Wolf nodded slightly "Not bad yourself, Fox. You're getting better."

"Right." The sergeant said slowly, still eyeing Eagle warily before looking at Wolf, "I probably don't need to tell you this, but timing of 14.23. Again, a very good time."

"Thank you, sir." Wolf replied, the duty voice being presented full force. The sergeant looked at Eagle again before shaking his head slightly and looking down at his clipboard.

"Your next assessment is combat. You're to report to Sergeant –"

"K-unit?" a voice barked across the clearing. All four men immediately straightened and all joking disappeared when they heard the authority in the tone. From across the field, they saw three figures approaching, one Ben immediately recognised as Major Hughes. Apparently the others did as well as their back's straightened and they stood to attention.

Ben watched attentively, with keen eyes as the other two figures came into view.

One he didn't recognise. He was tall, around the six foot mark, well built with light brown hair that was just starting to colour grey at the temples. He had a friendly looking face, which seemed a stark contrast to the rather rigid looking suit he was wearing, but he carried himself with the confidence of a man who could look after himself. The man's smile broadened as Major Hughes said something quietly and gestured to the obstacle course.

Ben pointedly refused to look at the other person in attendance, he was hoping he was imagining things. But as the threesome moved closer, their voices coming within earshot, Ben was left in no doubt as to who the third man was.

_John fucking Crawley._

Which must mean... Ben glanced sideways at his realisation, and it appeared he had hit the nail on the head as he saw Wolf's face contort into a scowl as he glared at the head of personnel for Special Operations.

Ben felt the tension grow as the threesome approached, his eyes never leaving a fixed point on the horizon behind them. He felt the old animosity growing, and he knew why. He didn't agree with their morals, their actions.

Ben had seen too much in that one assignment in Australia to forgive. It wasn't what he stood for. What he _fought _for.

There was a pregnant pause as the Major stopped in front of them, his eyes surveying them appraisingly and he nodded.

"At ease." He issued in a firm tone. Ben dropped his hand immediately and turned his eyes back onto the more friendly looking of the other two men. He found grey eyes looking back at him attentively, a small smile tugging at the other man's and Ben noted the faint scar that was peaking above the collar of the man's shirt. His attention was drawn away momentarily when the Major spoke again.

"This men, is-"

"I can introduce myself Major Hughes, if you don't mind." The unknown man said carefully. Ben picked up on the Welsh lilt, and the formal address that was so out of character for SO. He wondered for a second if the Major was going to react to being spoken across. He did react, but not in the way expected as Hughes smiled and gestured for him to continue. The man turned his face back to the group, with a self assured smile.

"Craig Demery. Deputy Head of Special Operations." He explained quickly, immediately he held his hand out to Snake who was stood at one end of the line. The Scottish man took it hesitantly and Demery worked his way down the line, the smile not leaving his face, even when Wolf looked about to refuse. Ben debated, in much the same way Wolf probably did about ignoring the gesture, but he saw no gain in acting like a child by rejecting the friendly greeting of the man who held a much higher rank than themselves.

Ben was surprised to find Demery's handshake was surprisingly firm, and the genuine smile on his face was infectious it would seem as Eagle returned it when it was his turn.

"Excellent." Demery said once the round of handshakes were done with the unit, "It's nice to meet you all. And Rieman, good to see you again. How's it going with the newbies?"

There was a shocked silence and Ben exchanged a look with all three members of his unit. Eagle was slowly repeating the words, his mouth moving but not emitting any sound and Ben watched with an interested gaze as the Sergeant they had been joking with just moments before, beamed.

"Some good, some bad same as always Bear."

Ben stared unashamedly, but it was apparently Eagle who again didn't think before he spoke.

"Bear? But you said Deputy Head of Special Operations." Eagle exclaimed, his voice fading out towards the end of the sentence, when Demery turned to look at him. The red head turned his eyes to the ground, and shifted on his feet, looking more than slightly uncomfortable. There was a short laugh and Ben watched as Demery walked over.

"Eagle? Right?"

"Yes, sir." Eagle replied, straightening his back. Demery smirked,

"I prefer Bear, in this setting if you don't mind." Demery replied and Eagle's mouth opened, as if to say something before clicking closed when he obviously thought better of it. Ben frowned and glanced at Major Hughes who was watching them like a hawk, but seeming fully confident in Demery's ability to handle himself.

"But in response to your rather awkwardly phrased question, Eagle. Yes, I'm ex SAS. I don't believe I worked with your squadron however."

Eagle just nodded mutely, and Ben could recognise when the man had chosen his time to quieten. But Ben's interest had peaked, ex SAS now deputy head of special operations, likeable personality, or so it seemed. It was only when the third voice spoke that Ben found himself able to draw his attention away from the enigmatic man in front of him.

"Mr Demery," Crawley beckoned, the younger turned to him with a curious look, "We are here for a purpose?"

Demery nodded curtly, completely ignoring the boring man's chastising tone and Ben found himself liking the new deputy a little more for the small rebellious act. Grey eyes locked onto his again, accompanied by a small nod in Ben's direction.

"Fox?" he asked calmly. Ben nodded mutely, not willing to offer a verbal response, but he did glance sideways to see Wolf's fists forming into fists gently at his side. "I was wondering if we could have a little chat."

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><p>Ben frowned as he walked back to the hut that housed his living quarters with his unit for the duration of their assessments. The little chat had taken a total of three hours, in Ben's opinion it wasn't that little. But thankfully, for a large portion of it, Crawley had been absent.<p>

It had been a bit of a mixed conversation, but it had flowed surprisingly easy.

There was none of the awkward pauses Ben had experienced when working with Special Operations previously. In fact, he was willing to say that Demery had seemed pleasant, for lack of a better word. Definitely not a word Ben had been expecting to apply to a conversation with SO.

The man had talked Ben through what they needed, why they felt he fitted the bill and a few of the recent, and non-classified, changes at the Royal and General. There was no mention of Cub, of course. But then Ben didn't expect there to be, and he was glad there wasn't. It would have only brought in biased thoughts and unpleasant memories.

In this particular case, he preferred to be ignorant.

Demery had explained in vague detail how he had gotten to the position he was in, as well as details about his time with the SAS that weren't classified. After hearing how long he had been in the military, a large portion of it SAS with secondments to SO, it was obvious to Ben how important this particular role was to him. And, maybe a little surprisingly, how determined the man was to do it well.

There had been none of the induced guilt there had been the first time Ben had been approached for secondment. Even with the recent attack that was big news at the moment, Demery didn't mention the amount of lives he could save or the potential threat, instead highlighting qualities Ben had that made the secondment suitable.

As much as Ben hated to admit it, he was feeling restless and the reminder that Demery provided of the pace of action in Australia seemed all too appealing. It was no different to before, and Ben could have cursed himself for ever agreeing to that first assignment. It had only made things worse, knowing what else was out there, knowing that he could be doing something that would make a difference.

It was what he had joined the military for all those years ago.

Ben pushed the door of the hut open when he reached it and suddenly the room went silent, he heard even through his musings, the sound of a rather rambunctious game of cards, at which Eagle was no doubt cheating, and he wondered why the sudden change of atmosphere with his return.

"You missed dinner." Wolf said completely out of the blue. Ben nodded,

"I know," Ben replied calmly as he walked over to his own bunk and sat down on it. Three pairs of eyes were watching him curiously, "I had something to eat in the meeting."

"It went on a long time?" Snake offered. Ben frowned, they were fishing for information. Did they underestimate him enough to think he wouldn't notice?

"You can just ask you know," Ben muttered, his mood starting to dwindle as the atmosphere remained. The others passed a look between them. Wolf apparently drew the short straw,

"Are you going back to them?" He asked gruffly. Ben sighed, he really had hoped it would be anyone other than Wolf that would ask. He could easily deflect the man's anger if it originated from someone else's question, but he wasn't sure about a head on conflict. Ben rubbed his eyes gently,

"In a word?" Ben asked, Wolf nodded curtly and Ben could see that slight hint of hope in his eyes, as their eyes locked for a second. He was going to shatter that. "Yes."

True to form, as Ben knew it would, Wolf's face closed off and he got to his feet. Ben had known him for years, since their basic training when they had been placed with the same training barrack in Herefordshire, before splitting into separate regiments, so he awaited the angry response.

But this time he was surprised, and not pleasantly so, as Wolf turned and walked from the room without a word. Ben watched the door close in a stupor before he turned his eyes to the other two. Snake was watching him carefully, and apparently found what he was looking for as he went back to dealing three fresh sets of cards on the small table that had been dragged to the middle of the room. Eagle simply picked up his cards and looked at them with an overly studious face

"Well, I'll be fucked. I did _not _expect that reaction." Eagle mused to the silent room. Snake nodded in agreement as he laid the rest of the deck face down on the table and picked up his own cards. He looked at them for a second, and Ben took a deep breath as both of them turned to look at him. Eagle just offered him a lopsided, but reassuring, smile.

"Anyway, you ready to lose some cash, Foxy?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Good Afternoon all :)**

**Okay, so I know I said Saturday... but I realised after being let out from work early that tomorrow is New Year's Eve! And I'm going out, so with how long I knew it would take me to final check and upload this I thought I'd do it a day early lol. **

**Let me say a big thank you to everyone reading this still... And to SynchroLover for the reviews on ALL my fics - I did try to reply, but you don't have PM on. S i'll say thank you here :P**

**Anyway, I have a dedication for this chapter - to Speechbubble for the absolutely AMAZING reviews she has left for every chapter and for picking out each thing I try to get across perfectly, that is the ultimate reassurance that what I'm doing is at least passable for this piece's purpose. So thanks again Speech :). **

**Right then - on with the one shot. This one is my favourite of the set so far, although I have a feeling that might change by the end.**

**Hope you enjoy and please review if you have any thoughts :D**

**Shush x**

**Disclaimer:** Nope, no authors rights in my stocking this year :( Although, my New Year's Resolution is to harass AH until he signs the damn papers!

**Warnings:** Language.

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><p>"<em>The art of living lies in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.<em>_"_

_**Henry Ellis**_

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><p>Alex stared at the projected image on the wall in front of him, the equations written across it seemed like gibberish and he wondered to himself just how much he had missed over the course of the last year.<p>

He sighed and turned his eyes to look out of the window, the serious lack of schooling and change to a completely different syllabus really weren't doing him any favours.

He had been in America for three months now, and had hoped the feeling he had experienced on the plane as they travelled to their destination would have subsided, that he would have relaxed and fallen into routine easily. He had thought in the first four weeks, prior to starting at Anza Vista High School, that he would at least have felt a little more comfortable.

The house he had moved into with the Pleasures was beautiful, and the neighbourhood it was nestled in was exactly what Alex would have expected from the close family. The blue painted, three floored home complete with a porch and garage was so similar to houses he had seen in films it had originally felt like a film set. But once he had gotten inside there were small tokens - pictures on the walls of Sabina and her family, keys sitting in the key bowl, coats hung up in the under the stairs cupboard - that had made it feel a little less surreal.

But he had still stood in the front hall, just inside the door, with his suitcase by the side of him waiting for direction on what to do next.

That first week had been hard. He hadn't felt like talking, and had kept pretty much to himself, learning the ins and outs of his room that had been arranged in his favourite colour and furnished with everything he could have possibly wanted, far more than he actually needed. It was only after self imposed solitary of seven days that Edward Pleasure had made to approach him.

The man had been kind, saying that Alex had the right to move around and do as he pleased within the house. He was to treat it as his "home" apparently and had gone on to explain the rules that would apply to Alex while he was there. They weren't dissimilar to Sabina's.

Curfew at 9 on school nights, 10 on the weekends.

He was to carry his mobile at all times.

Check before asking people over to the house.

Be mindful of other people in the house and be courteous at all times.

It was all pretty standard, but it still _felt_ constricting. He'd never really had any rules with Jack, or at least not ones that really offered routine to his day. Really there was only one,

Do not, under any circumstances, discuss MI6 unless it was absolutely necessary.

Alex hadn't realised it at the time of that conversation with Edward, but he had subconsciously tagged that one onto the end of the house rules.

Not that he probably would have needed to, it appeared both Sabina and her parents were even less keen on discussing it than he was. Whenever anything came up even distinctly related, it would be steered away most non-discreetly.

If Edward was having a bad day with his leg, he would look sternly at whoever mentioned it before giving Alex a reassuring look.

If Sabina suggested a film which had any link whatsoever to the word intelligence, it was decided they would watch a comedy.

If there was a story in the paper that included a quote from someone involved in that world, it would be the only one that wasn't discussed around the breakfast table.

It was all quite patronising really.

Between that, the not-so-subtle glances he received from the Pleasures and his own nightmares, which only seemed to have increased since his move to America, he had been nearing snapping point within a month.

It was lucky really, that school started when it did. It had provided a welcome distraction, and attending the same one as Sabina helped. He had met her friends, even though they were seniors and it was almost nice to be able to walk down a hall without a glare or whispered rumour following him. Alex had been surprised to be introduced as her boyfriend, but then he supposed they had never really cut that particular tie.

He wasn't so lucky in classes. As a junior, his classes were separate from that of Sabina and her friends. He had missed a lot more than what he had expected back in England, sometimes struggling to keep up with some of the most basic principles of knowledge. Which was why, he was now sat in a _math _class without the foggiest idea of what the lecturer was explaining.

He was sat alone on his desk, he had made the class an odd number and, unsurprisingly, when he had entered the room on his first day the only spare desk had been right at the front next to the window, in direct view of the teacher. He had taken the seat and remained in the same one ever since.

In that first class, he had been singled out as a gauge of his attainment level. To say it had been awkward was an understatement, and he hadn't been surprised at the sniggers from the other pupils when he couldn't answer the most rudimentary question. He remembered when the first note had hit the back of his head, launched somewhere from the "jocks" table, and he had had to restrain himself from acting reflexively as he would have out in the field.

It had been a stupid insult concealed within the paper and Alex hadn't responded instead putting his head down to his textbook and trying to get his knowledge up to that of those around him at least.

It turned out it was a wrong move. Apparently studying in America made you a nerd.

Sabina joked and said he was a sexy nerd. Alex insisted the label made him stand out too much.

To avoid any further attention, he had taken to watching other students in his classes, and found that 80% of them spent their time in school looking out of the window. What they were thinking about he didn't know, nor did he particularly care, but he could take a guess it revolved around the newest party, the upcoming "football" game or the next event on the social calendar.

For him, he found those times particularly useful to listen with half an ear to the teacher and he allowed the other half of his mind to wander. He often found himself thinking about things he knew he shouldn't, MI6, Tom, England and Jack being but a few.

It allowed him to relax slightly, knowing, and taking comfort in the thought he was away from that.

Knowing his involvement was no longer putting anyone in danger in the ways it had before.

But he didn't necessarily _feel_ involved here either.

It was a strange juxtaposition.

A sharp crack bought Alex's attention back to the class. He eyed the ruler that had been slapped against the desk before looking up at the slightly insane looking teacher. Jenson was nice enough, but his messy grey hair and insistence to point everything out on the projection wall with a ruler that he brandished like a sword, had earned him more than a little craziness in Alex's book.

"Care to elaborate on the Morse theory, Mr Rider?" Jenson asked with an expectant look. Alex glanced at the image, and saw a mixture of letters scrambled in some random code that he knew he didn't have a clue of understanding.

"No." He answered simply, Jenson narrowed his eyes before turning to the class.

"Anyone else?" Jenson announced, the customary sniggers came from the tables near the back and Alex turned his eyes back out of the window, determined to ignore them.

It was then he saw it.

A figure moving across the roof of the adjacent building.

Alex froze, his mind screaming at him to move, to do something. He watched, as tense as a bowstring, as the figure crouched down and drop a bag to the floor, he felt a piece of paper hit the back of his head, but he paid it no heed instead his back was ramrod straight.

_It's probably nothing. _

He wasn't prepared to live in the land of hopeless probabilities.

The last time, Tom had been shot. It wasn't something he wanted to happen to anyone else - regardless of how much he disliked his class mates.

He kept his serious brown eyes locked on the target, as he drew back, now holding something in his hands. Alex narrowed his eyes, he couldn't quite make out the object but it certainly seemed the right length, possibly even the right shape.

As he watched the figure move to the edge of the roof, he held his breath. The shadow man crouched down, before lowering himself onto his stomach and held still for a moment, as if taking-

Alex jumped up and out of his seat as another piece of paper hit him and there was a burst of laughter from the jock's table.

"Mr Rider," Jenson scolded, his tone was strict and Alex took a step away from the window. "What is the matter?"

"I, uh-" Alex started, what should he do. Should he tell the man? And what was taking so long? There should have been a shot by now, unless he was the primary target, the only objective to eliminate him. Alex grabbed his bag quickly, not wanting to put himself in the line of fire again and threw it on his shoulder with a nervous look towards the window.

"I'm feeling ill. I need to go to the nurse." Alex said quickly, Jenson looked him over before nodding once. Alex didn't wait for any further confirmation he practically ran for the door, ignoring the calls of Jenson to take a hall pass.

He felt like he couldn't breathe. They had promised! Promised he was going to be left alone. Scorpia weren't even around anymore.

Mrs Jones had said they weren't.

Alex stopped mid-step, and wondered since when what they said made any difference.

It hadn't before.

He took a deep breath, reminding himself that to panic would only make things worse. If it was going to happen he would have to deal with it himself, he knew out here he had no support.

It was with quiet steps that he made his way to the next vacant classroom that would allow him a viewpoint in the same direction. He found one three doors down. He made his way over to the window, and sure enough, still on the rooftop of the building was the figure. He was shifting slightly, but Alex could see the object in his hand was being held steady out over the rooftop.

Alex sighed and leant his head back against the wall. It was really happening. All over again.

Alex deposited his bag on the floor by one of the desks, memorising the room number as he walked out so he could return and collect it later under the pre-tense he had had an earlier class and he jogged towards the stairwell that would take him down to the ground floor. He stopped when he reached the double plated glass doors of the entrance and looked up, from this position he couldn't see the man.

That was good - it meant they couldn't see him.

He still geared himself for the short sprint across the courtyard, taking a deep breath and ignoring the fact he was potentially running into a dangerous situation unarmed. The sunlight hit him, blinding him for a second as he ran, but when he felt no piercing pain, no tell tales whooshes of bullets going by his person he took a deep breath and pushed through the doors of the Drama block.

He made his way quickly through the halls and up the stairs. There was no need to take his time or act stealthy, he belonged here. It was one huge advantage he had over his opponent. It was only as he jogged the penultimate stretch of hall, towards the service door that would lead him to the roof that he grabbed a fire extinguisher.

An unusual choice, admittedly, but definitely not a solitary one as he remembered the last time he had been in this sort of situation.

Alex sprinted round the corner, ignoring the surprised yell of a group of students as he pushed through them and ripped the safety attachment from the extinguisher. He saw the chain that was normally secured by a padlock on the service door, dangling on one handle and wasted no time in barrelling through it.

He was aware of the sound of heavy footsteps behind him, and he assumed some of the students were running after him to find out what was happening. He debated just for a second as he took the final staircase three at a time telling them to stay back, but all too soon he had reached the door that would lead to the roof. The students behind him were shouting and making too much noise, if he waited he would lose the element of surprise. Along with the extinguisher, it was the only thing he had.

Bright light filled his vision, and the wind chill atop the building was refreshing compared to the dank corridor he had just emerged from, and he spotted the man led on the rooftop just metres away from him.

He was dressed all in black, and a mask adorned his face. Alex crept over, hoping none of his stealth skills had gone awry over the last few months.

He was just feet away when the door to the roof slammed back against the wall, the man jumped up and turned with a surprised look visible through the visor of the helmet he was wearing. The long cylindrical item in his hands moved towards Alex just as he pushed the trigger on the extinguisher.

There was a startled cry as the foam covered the man and he dropped to his knees, yanking the helmet off in the process. It only made things worse as the foam coated his face and worked its way into his eyes.

"Alex!" A familiar voice yelled, Alex tensed as someone grabbed the extinguisher and he saw the furious face of Sabina. "What the hell are you doing?"

Alex wanted to shout at her to get away, that it was dangerous. But his voice was caught in his throat as the man straightened up behind her.

"That's exactly what I want to know, kid."

Alex blinked. He knew that voice.

Sabina span towards the grumpy janitor who held up maintenance on the school grounds. Her back pushed into Alex's chest as she took a step back, clapping a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. The group of students stood behind them didn't seem so successful, and laughter soon filled the air.

Alex swallowed heavily, the adrenaline leaving his body all too quickly and looked down to the ground to see the man's "weapon", feeling more than a little ridiculous as he eyed the pressure washer that had been dropped in the wake of his actions. Slowly, he looked back to the man's furious face.

"Oh, bollocks."

* * *

><p>Alex stared out of the window as the car moved along the freeway, the early morning sun was littering everything in delicate hues of red and orange across the landscape. The colours were doing nothing to help his impending sense of doom. It was a Monday morning, the first school day after "the incident" as it had been dubbed.<p>

He had expected upon his return from school on Friday, after a strict telling off by the headmaster, to have been reprimanded. He was fully prepared for a long-term grounding, thinking that both Edward and Liz Pleasure would have been angry about his over-reaction to something that was so innocent.

Instead, he had received sympathetic looks from Liz and a small speech from Edward about his instincts and how it was understandable, in his situation.

Alex really wasn't sure which was worse. Or maybe, he didn't know how to accept that response. It didn't really matter.

He had imposed his own grounding rule and locked himself in his bedroom for the last two days, leaving only when called for mealtimes. While the Pleasures had been understanding, and even tried to comfort him when he decided to serve his own retribution, Alex had felt the suffocation he had felt in the first few weeks of being in America returning.

In truth, he was frustrated. The new start he was supposed to get here was being plagued by past reactions.

Allowing himself to react like that had been a slip of the control he had managed to use since arriving in America.

It had been those slips of control that had led to his precarious position with MI6 in the first place.

It had been those slips of control that had led to Jack's death.

"Have a good day, you two." Liz called over her shoulder. Alex blinked and refocused his eyes. He hadn't realised they were at the school already. But sure enough, there were students milling around lazily and congregating into groups on the steps at the front of the school. Sabina beamed at him before pushing her door open, and rather than open his own Alex slid along the seat and exited after her.

He took a deep breath as the first few people looked over and he felt a hand touch his. Alex looked down and made no move to take it. The choice was taken away when Sabina grabbed his anyway and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

He was suffocating.

More people turned to look, and he cast his eyes to the ground. There was an impatient tug on his hand and he hesitated before taking a step forwards. Sabina led him past the gatherings of students each of which seemed to stare at him as he passed.

"_Did you hear-"_

"_On the roof-"_

"_-could have died, if he fell-"_

"_What's wrong with him-"_

"_-he crazy?"_

With each whispered word it seemed history was slowly coming full circle. Old memories resurfaced and added to the nightmares he had suffered over the weekend. He felt the hand holding his tighten and Sabina turned to him with a whispered word,

"Don't listen to them."

The words didn't bother him, nor did the looks he was receiving. He'd learnt a long time ago, that when something was a little odd, be it not having parents or being able to scare off a bully three years older, people talked. It was how you dealt with those words and looks that set you against them.

So when Sabina's friends - for they would never be his - congratulated him on a well done prank and complimented him on his choice of target, it didn't take long for his persona to slip on like an old comfy pair of jeans.

He smirked and joked like any other teenager who had gotten away with a prank would.

It was as he looked back at the other students, some of whom were still watching and others who had gone back to their own conversations, did he realise something he had been putting into practice for a lot longer than he thought.

He never had been, nor would he ever be, _normal, _but that didn't mean he couldn't act it.


	5. Chapter 5

**(Sheepish smile)**

**Umm, I know it's not Saturday, and I know it's not a week later than the last update. But yeah, you get another chapter anyway. **

**I've got the hangover from hell that is going to stop me going out today for sure, which means I'm going to get a whole day working on my other fics. I thought I would treat you to this little one, if you can call it a treat. **

**I'm not too sure on this one, there is only a little weensy bit of plot – but hopefully you'll get what I'm aiming for lol.**

**Anyway, on with it...**

**Shush x**

**Disclaimer: **Mission: Bug-AH-until-he-signs-the-rights-over-Shush: Incomplete... It's a work in progress :P

* * *

><p>"<em>There is no hunting like the hunting of man, and those who have hunted armed men long enough, never care for anything else after it."<em>

_**Ernest Hemingway**_

* * *

><p>Dull grey eyes, looked out over the bleak scene that was playing out in the small graveyard in Hemel Hempstead. It was raining, the late November chill was biting, and the sun hadn't seemed to have appeared for days.<p>

But the weather didn't bother him. It hardly even chilled him. He waited patiently, silently but not timidly, for the procession he knew would be arriving soon.

He had almost allowed himself admittance to the church, before the thought that there was no reason for him to be there had come to mind. Neither did he have any cause to sit among people he didn't know, to await his moment of respect.

The truth was he didn't believe in a higher being. He didn't believe in the "final retribution" the priest would have spoken about. He didn't believe that there was anything beyond death and he most certainly didn't believe that the people that would have tried to study him would understand his thoughts.

He was an atheist by nature. Things had happened in his lifetime that had caused him to question, not just religion, but sometimes common belief. In his mind there was one underlying factor that made all things run in process, caused all things to move in set patterns and forced all things work in a harmony that sometimes was so out of tune that it worked.

Logic.

It was all a simple game of logic, much like a child who would sit down and play battleships, strategically calling out numbers to try to locate an enemy sub. He had done the same, but instead of cheap plastic boats, he had played with lives.

He had pushed the buttons, called out numbers and played the game until some lives so little resembled what was there previously that he had _almost_ felt a moment of remorse.

But those people, those select few, that he had had the pain of working with, (he would never say pleasure, it very rarely was,) had performed admirably, right through until their own procession much like this one.

The group were approaching now, the pall bearers at the front, holding up the object of their sadness. He recognised none of them, but he wasn't surprised by that. He didn't have the influence anymore to be able to arrange such things as he had had before.

It was ironic really, that for the people he had toyed with, swinging their lives from constants to never known's, he had gone out of his way to ensure they were accompanied, right up to the very end. And yet, when it came down to _her, _he had taken a back seat with no reluctance. Simply allowing other people to craft out what should have been some of the saddest moments of his life.

But he felt no sadness, no remorse. Instead there was just an eerie sense of calm.

Maybe acceptance had already worked into his system.

Maybe after so many others had died before him, he found this was just another tally to the chart.

But that didn't sit right with him. He worked in absolutes and certainties, and to allow himself to ponder over biased maybe's and hopefullys was a ridiculous trait that he had never encouraged.

He wasn't about to start now.

It was with dull eyes that he watched the group of people moving into position around him.

A few people he recognised from mug shots, and knew their history, their likes, dislikes, any convictions they may have had formally or informally. He wondered if they would be comfortable knowing the he knew, knew about skeletons they had kept in their closet for the longest time. He supposed not, knowledge was a powerful thing after all.

It was something he had sought after himself, personally screening each person when _she _had mentioned their name in conversation, be it over evening supper or formal greeting when he had been able to tear himself away from the office for an event she had deigned of utmost importance.

But he had never expected there to be this many.

He allowed himself a moment of definite thought,

_She _had had a good life, and found substitutes for the things she needed.

_She _had turned to others for the words, comfort, reassurance and beliefs that he should have provided.

All the while, he had been absorbed into the world he had joined. Of the select few that ever knew of his work some had said he had gone all too willingly. He could tell when they voiced their opinions they had not approved, he may have even said they detested him for it.

He could understand.

Underneath his hard exterior was a man who understood human behaviour and interaction with a fluency few ever managed to master. It had come from years of watching, and experimenting in his case, with emotion.

There was one such example, stood the opposite side of the grave they were surrounding. Her eyes were the same colour, the hair almost exactly the same shade. And if he had believed in ideals and fantasy, he could have imagined her to be the angel of the fallen.

But when those eyes looked at him, he was left in no doubt it wasn't her. He believed you could tell a lot from a person's eyes, and the animosity in the pair that were staring at him now, as the coffin was lowered was wrong.

It wasn't what he remembered. And for the briefest, most fleeting of moments, he _wanted _to see her again. He wanted to have been present at the open coffin ceremony in that church. He _wanted _to be able to believe that there was something other than grey. Something other than this unbiased, and yet true, sense of reality he had achieved.

For just one second he wanted to let go.

Let go of the knowledge he had obtained over the years.

The knowledge that human's were cruel. At best they were animals, vying constantly for territory and rights.

Let go of the fact that he had become no different to the leader of a pack. Delegating and arranging the next attack to provide a little more time, a little more space, a little more room.

That ability to let go had been in his grasp, when he had emerged from the world that had taught him harsh realities in a rapid cacophony, _she_ had been there.

It had been 50 years, 50 very long years and he knew he had changed almost unrecognisably. But _she _had still been waiting, unwavering, faithful and innocent. _She _had been standing with welcome arms to help him back along the path of blissful ignorance.

It had been strangely reminiscent of the time she had grabbed his arm and insisted they walk out along Brighton Pier in November 1958 after the proposal had been made and her answer given. The smile of innocence he had grown attached too never faltered that entire evening.

_Her _smile had never faltered, even at the end, when that ignorance was ripped away in something most would call a vile twist of fateful retribution.

Across from him was a mere echo of that person, her twin sister. She was wholly identical, but very different in manner. She had arranged all of this, and he supposed that he should thank her.

It was time to rebuild on his own now. No matter how hard it would be.

Dull grey eyes didn't move as the cover was lifted from the headstone. The first handful of dirt was thrown atop the coffin and still, those green eyes, that physically but not emotionally, were so similar watched him.

They flickered to the headstone, inviting him to look and he followed their gaze, he read the inscription.

Patricia Ann Wickerman

23/11/1940 – 19/10/2011

Loving sister, Auntie and Friend.

A life full of years of understanding.

Your patient courage is a loving memory.

The name was wrong. There was no mention of marriage on the epitaph. He looked back to those green eyes, they were taunting him, trying to encourage a reaction. Encouraging him to defend the ideal he had tried to build prior to his involvement, encouraging him to react in a way he hadn't in years.

His face remained unchanged, but he understood.

He knew that even in a prey's lowest moment, when they could neither move nor defend themselves, a predator would still attack.

It was something he himself had done numerous times, with numerous agents in positions prone to be taken advantage of.

He turned and walked away, knowing he wouldn't return, nor see any of the people present again.

He was too different.

They lived in ideals and tinted realities. He lived in truth.

They existed by ignorance and restrictions. He existed by weighted choices and the greater good.

They believed in fate and fairy tales. He believed in logic.

And logically, there was a reason for the attack on the Stella Anta cruise ship that had taken her life.

And while most would have accepted, a wrong place wrong time theory. He wouldn't.

Alan Blunt never had been, wasn't now and never would be, anyone's prey.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi Hi :)**

**Okay, so I got one review that someone said they were confused in. Understandable at the moment, but if you read through the words very carefully, there are connections in each of these. I promise lol.**

**So it's midweek, and I'm posting again. You're probably wondering why – well this one is another little one shot. From a much less known character from the series, but one that I think would hold quite a bit of influence in perspective of the happenings in Scorpia Rising. **

**It's probably a bit slow running, which is why I decided to post it early, so we could get back onto the "fun" ones on Saturday. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately if you like this chapter, every story needs fillers for explanations.**

**Right, so anyway, on with it :) and don't forget to review if you like it :P**

**Shush x**

**P.S: I broke my New Year's resolution already, but not without being placed under duress. The restraining order against my demands for rights arrived this morning in the post. So, as ruled by queen and country here goes:**

**Disclaimer**: I do not now, nor will I ever, own Alex Rider or recognisable characters.

**Warnings**: None

* * *

><p>"<em>All ideologies are idiotic, whether religious or political,<em>

_For it is conceptual thinking, the conceptual word,_

_Which has so unfortunately divided man."_

_**Jiddu Krishnamurti**_

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><p>Sir Graham Adair walked the familiar route of Downing Street with a sophisticated air. It was something he had picked up very near the beginning of his time in politics, back when his hair had still been naturally thick, tinged brown and the crow's feet that edged his eyes were non-existent.<p>

His well groomed appearance was caught in the flashes of light from the cameras of the ever present reporters that took root outside the white bricked building. Number 10 Downing Street was a renowned, what with the important and sometimes more than controversial political decisions that took place here.

Today though, it was the residence to a simple meeting of old friends. It had been a long time, Adair mused, since he had sat in counsel with the man now running the country, and he had wondered when his old protégé would need advice. Sure enough, he was called upon, in the form of a neatly printed invitation sealed inside a heavy silver gilded envelope bearing the crest of the current cabinet.

He had debated for a second, not attending. There was a political maelstrom surrounding both the democracy and the intelligence agencies that he was caught up in a little more than he would have liked.

Unfortunately the experience he had gained from his previous standing as a Labour constituent worked against him. The ability to be able to placate and calm with words had put him at the forefront as spokesperson in their defence.

It was a position he was neither comfortable nor obligated to fulfil.

He nodded curtly to the policeman that was standing guard at the top of the steps and immediately the door was opened to allow him admittance. The heavy black wood, that was reinforced with the most sophisticated technology available closed behind him, blocking out the questions and prying eyes of the media and casting its impending silence.

The welcoming hall he stood in hadn't changed since his last visit, the sweeping staircase to one side still gleamed under the crystal chandelier and the tasteful shade of cream on the walls still felt as homely as it had previously.

Overall, Adair thought, Henley had landed on his feet. He was in no doubt the man had made sacrifices to get to this point. Adair remembered him from when he was just a page clerk in the House of Commons, but he knew, as did everyone else who had been touched by a politician, it was nothing more than tactical warfare to obtain this particular position.

So when Adair caught his first glimpse of the man as he descended the stairs talking quietly to a formal looking woman dressed in a black suit, he wondered how it was that someone as timid looking could have beaten down the competition to such a degree that he obtained a landslide victory.

"Ah, Graham!" Henley exclaimed, the smile that Adair had seen many a times in newspapers and magazines on his face as he walked forwards with a hand outstretched.

"Good to see you again, Arthur."

"Indeed, it's been too long. Far too long." Henley agreed, the woman was still lingering to one side and Henley looked to her, "That's all, thank you Marie. Can you notify chef?"

"Yes, sir." Her voice was melodic and with the silence and grace of a cat she disappeared into an adjoining room without any hesitation. Henley turned back to Adair,

"Shall we? Dinner should be ready soon, until then I suggest we occupy the library."

They walked in silence, people meandering around the halls with files and cleaning equipment, the building seemed to be teaming with activity. But none ever got in the way, even when Henley had a document to sign he did so without breaking pace as a clerk hurried along beside him.

They entered a large room, through an ornate red wood door, and if he had never been present in this building before Adair would have been surprised by the sheer size of the written prose that lined the walls within.

Adair could have questioned as to why Henley had chosen this particular room, rather than the expansive and overly comfortable lounge he had been in during the previous Prime Minister's reign. But he cast the thought as obsolete, it was preference after all and Henley had always seemed to have a quirkier manner than his predecessors.

It was only once the door was closed and Henley turned to him that he could understand the real reason for choosing this particular room.

No sound could get in or out here.

"How are the kids?" Henley asked as he poured two generous glasses of brandy from the decanter that was on the large pine desk. Adair took his with a smile as it was offered and the pair moved to the deep red sofas in the centre of the room.

"They're well," Adair replied, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something wrong. "James has just been appointed chancellor of commissions for the EU board."

"And Laura?" Henley asked,

"Laura is well, just had her fourth. She makes me feel older every time her and Justin have another sprog." Adair responded, he felt the warm smile on his face and the man opposite replicated it, albeit a little forced.

"That's good to hear." Henley looked up as there was a light knock on the door, and it clicked open a degree. A maid, dressed in the customary blue hues of Downing Street entered and placed a platter of entree's on the table in between the pair. Adair practically felt his mouth water as he looked at the small delicacies that had been carefully laid out and paid no heed as Henley dismissed the young woman. Adair waited until the door had clicked closed before taking one and looking at it curiously.

"It's quite the set up you have here, Arthur." It was meant as a compliment, but the sigh that left the younger man's lips was unexpected. Adair gave him a quizzical look.

"It is Graham, but it seems to be slipping away."

"You mean the recent enquiries?" Graham asked, his voice was quiet. He was all too aware of where this conversation was going to lead eventually. And for matters of this manner, he was glad the man opposite had chosen this room.

"The public are losing faith in our country's security." Henley explained, "The small protests that have been happening recently regarding the policing authorities have fallen aside, as I'm no doubt you are aware."

Adair nodded. The papers had been highlighting recently the public unrest. The recent slaughter in the Atlantic Ocean was bound to bring an uprising of some sort; the only thing unknown was how violent it was going to be. Almost unsurprisingly, it had hit. And it had hit hard. Members of various political parties had grouped together and were attacking the current reign with every accusation and story their propaganda spinners could imagine. It had led to several enquiries and more than a little interest from educated minds into investigations, both past and present.

"We're in an extremely precarious situation Graham," Henley said slowly, Adair nodded. He had had this discussion with the board just the week prior. The meeting had taken place in private, as they deemed it necessary to review cases that should never come to public light. Adair remembered with a grim smile, that nine in particular made that shortlist with no hesitation whatsoever.

"As a party we are losing public support as we sit here and do nothing. The more that the enquiries continue, the more chance there is they will unearth something that could topple us and ruin all credibility we hold."

Adair looked at the man for a second, he was going somewhere with this conversation. He almost hoped he had misheard the man for a second. Or, that he wasn't going in the direction Adair thought he was.

"I need you to assemble the board next month. I require a meeting with them." Henley said finally. Adair nodded and took a moment to mull over his next question,

"What purpose is there for this?"

"We need to do something, show we are making some form of progress with the enquiries that are taking place."

"You are talking a hierarchal movement?" Adair questioned, there was a beat of silence as Henley rubbed his temples. The man, who Adair had no problem saying was normally handsome looking with his trademark smile, suddenly looked a lot older than his 38 years. And the battle worn man Adair had been expecting to see after his appointment to Prime Minister appeared before his eyes in a moment.

"Not necessarily. But we need options." Henley replied quietly, "I am not keyed in enough on the intelligence of this country to make a decision alone."

"You made the decisions about-"

"That was an extenuating circumstance. At no point in this country's history has its safety relied on the shoulders of a 14 year old boy, Adair. And at no point, while I am in a position of power will I allow it to be again."

Adair bit his tongue, he didn't agree with the usage of the boy. But, his talents had far exceeded expectation. He remembered when he had met the lad that looked so similar to his father, and the quiet confidence he had carried had been soothing, albeit a strange trait for one so young to hold.

The topic had been of major debate in the months that had followed that meeting of COBRA, members of the board and of parliament that were present had been up in arms, with views on either side earning cheers of agreement and protest at the same time.

Adair had kept a close eye on the child from that moment, and it didn't surprise him to have received reports from Blunt himself of the child's exploits. The last he'd received, another failed Scorpia plot, the finalisation of the organisation that had caused Adair himself distress years previously after the abduction of his son, had been impressive and Adair did not make shy that he thought so either.

It was then that Henley had discovered the boy, and put his foot down. It was ironic that his first ruling as publicly promoted prime minister would be one that civilians would never hear of. Adair remembered the meeting, back when the action had been passed. Henley had been furious, casting both Alex and Alan Blunt out of their positions without hesitation, while leaving the Board to pick up the pieces and find replacements.

It would appear, the process hadn't been as successful as they would have liked.

"Do you regret it?" Adair asked. Henley stared at the glass of fluid in his hand, swirling it ever so gently in thoughtfulness.

"I do not regret allowing a child-"

"That is not what I was meaning." Adair cut across quickly, the man opposite him looked up with a frown,

"I don't quite understand."

"You regret getting involved." Adair clarified, Henley sighed and drained the last of his drink.

"I was warned, by Richard before he left office," Henley said slowly, "That some things were best left alone. He specifically mentioned intelligence being one of the things he himself had turned a blind eye to."

"You didn't take his advice." Adair stated, Henley frowned as the door to the office opened after a light knock and a house hand waved them forth for their meal. Both men stood, and turned towards the door. Henley fell into step beside him,

"It's not what I stand for." He said quietly, Adair said nothing as they were led into the large dining room and seated for what was supposed to be a gourmet meal.

* * *

><p>Adair pushed himself to his feet; the evening was wearing on and his company had long been outstayed. They had retired back to the office, but the heavy conversation from earlier in the afternoon had abated into simpler topics. It was the way many meetings had proceeded prior and would continue to in the future in his job. He had been around politicians long enough to understand the trend - approach a hard topic first and lift with soothing words at the end.<p>

"You're leaving."

"Yes," Adair confirmed. He held out his hand in a gesture of formal goodbye. Henley stood and shook it amicably, no surprise showing on his face at the man's abrupt departure. "I will be in touch after I have arranged the board."

"Thank you Graham," There was a tone of relief to his voice and Adair thought about how misplaced it was. Even through the pleasantries, he was a realist and Henley was really playing with things that he didn't understand. Adair himself had once taken the man in as something of an apprentice to the world of politics and he felt one last piece of advice on the tip of his tongue. He paused before walking to the door,

"I have seen many people come and go from office,"

"You were permanent secretary that is to be expected." Henley agreed almost sagely, looking for the key information that was about to be dropped. Adair took a moment to phrase his words carefully as he looked at the inexperienced publican in front of him. He gave a grim smile as he spoke,

"Then I implore you Arthur, to consider your options very carefully. This situation promotes a chance for self assessment and establishing a firm choice of actions for the future."

Adair ignored the man's confused expression and walked from the office and ignoring the staff that were biding their daily chores as he walked the route back to the atrium. He wondered idly if any of them truly knew of the on-goings in this established house, if they knew of the decisions and courses of actions that had been made here within the white washed walls. Or maybe, more appropriately, what they would think of them if they did.

None of them would know of the declaration that Henley passed, bar a very select few - most of which were enrolled within the board, a board of directors that had changed beyond comprehension in the last few months. It was once a place of invigorated debate amongst established people, debate that more often than not involved the most recent success or the reviews of findings and ways of moving forwards to prevent a situation from reoccurring.

Now it was nothing more than a tomb of silence, filled purely by the presence of powerful men. The debates had turned into lacklustre conversations on how they could improve, or rather, how they could _prove_ it was possible to obtain results without an unbiased, and sometimes ruthless, captain at the ships helm.

Adair walked out of Number 10 Downing Street with a grim face, he ignored the flashes from the cameras and climbed into the back of the Rolls Royce that had pulled up at the curb. From outside the camera bulbs pierced into the silence and plush surroundings of the car, as lightening would normally strike against a darkened sky.

The attack that they hadn't anticipated had been similar to that. One large strike that had rocked it's foundations to the core, irking not just public and professional opinion, but also that of the directors as the information was laid out to them in hindsight of tragedy, rather than success.

It hadn't escaped their notice that the suspected target of this attack was picked up long after the initial investigation, nor had it gone awry that Blunt's involvement had been spoken in hurried words by his once competent deputy.

They had concluded in review of Jones' testimony, and that of her own deputy, that the proceedings they were putting into place were appropriate but closer monitoring was required while the routine was re-established.

They all knew it was a weak acceptance that they couldn't back out of this particular corner without abiding to the rules Blunt had so clearly laid out years before. But they also couldn't sit by and do nothing if they were pushed again.

It was a grim realisation that none had chosen to raise so far.

One false move could disturb the strange balance they were just managing to maintain with the Establishment in its delicate situation. The choices of one, may just be enough to topple that.

Much like before with Blunt, who had introduced methods so underhanded, that people had reeled in the light of the truth, Henley was pushing into unknown territory. The only difference between them, was that people realised Blunt had _known_ what he was doing and why, even if they couldn't understand and allow it.

At first the thought had been cast out as biased thinking of a process that worked, that was easy.

Now it was being recollected with a fondness akin to wanting. It was being used as a marker of how they wanted the process to run, an attainment target that was struggling to be filled, an indicator of how well they were doing now

Adair watched as the first raindrops fell against the window he was gazing out of. The streets of London were bleak, the air cold, the protesters stood in their picket lines holding up chants and signs degrading terrorists and foreign beliefs, the tired looking businessmen and women casting them disgruntled looks as they wound through the crowds and went about their daily routines.

Out here, on the streets nothing had changed.

Adair had long since known, that what the public portrayed was but a portion of reality. But the moralistic attitude had tended to remain the same in both worlds. Wound so tightly together by promising words and authentic acts that no member of the public would ever believe any different. He could only hope that Henley would heed his silent warning that was formed as a piece of harmless advice, and fall into step with his predecessors.

But, with the people who held the power but were doing nothing with it, with the men who formed and structured those ties between themselves and the public, the lines of right and wrong were rapidly becoming blurred under the light of violence and protestation.

Behind closed doors, things were changing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Good Morning all :)**

**Yes, me again lol. Firstly, let me say thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story. I know the last two chapters have been slow, that was the reason I decided to post them so close together – because now we can get onto the more "Fun" ones.**

**But by fun, I don't mean funny ha-ha, just a little more interesting. **

**So yeah, apologies to anyone I bored to death over the last two updates, but I wanted to have more than just the typical "Alex" story. That, and I like character interpretation and motivation, even if some chapter turn out quite uninteresting there are topics within them that are viable. I promise.**

**I've had a review stating that someone is lost with the "plot", I did warn you at the beginning it's vague, very vague, and it's really not a huge part of the fic. It's more a sub story, just there to prompt change and encourage interaction between characters that Anthony Horowitz decided to move on after Scorpia Rising.**

**After this one shot, I hope things start to flow a little better between each one as we approach the halfway point and through to the end.**

**Anyway, enough rambling, and back to the one shots!**

**Shush x**

**Disclaimer:** *Sighs* Definitely not mine I'm afraid. Although, I like to think they'd have more fun with me.

**Warnings:** Language and arrogant teenagerism :P

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><p>"<em>Nothing can have as its destination anything other than its origin. The contrary idea, the idea of progress, is a slow road to poison."<em>

_**Simon Weil**_

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><p>"Alex?"<p>

Alex was floating, the sun was warming his skin and he took a deep breath of fresh air. The waves around him lapped at the capsule he was sat in. Never had he felt more at peace than in the silence, just listening-

"Alex!"

He blinked his eyes owlishly and regained enough focus to see Sabina sat on the side of his sun lounger. Her hair was tied back, revealing a delicate collarbone and well sculpted back. The yellow bikini she was wearing only accentuated the tan she had accumulated here, and he felt as a bottle was all but forced into his hands. He looked down at it and understood what it was she was wanting without having to be asked. He tipped some of the liquid out onto his hand before applying it to the skin.

"Nice sleep?" Sabina asked, she took a sharp intake of breath when the first of the cold sun tan lotion connected with her skin and Alex gave her a lopsided smile.

"Must have dozed off."

"Only about an hour ago dude," Taylor exclaimed from the next lounger along. Alex stopped in his movements for a second and looked over at him.

"That long?" Alex asked. He didn't know whether to be surprised or concerned, it was rare he slept more than 45 minutes without a nightmare these days. He didn't outwardly show any reaction as Taylor nodded,

"Dreaming of your next prank?" Taylor asked, Alex smirked and went back to his task of applying the sun tan lotion. Sabina sighed,

"Oh no. That look never means anything good."

"No, not good." He agreed, winking at Taylor. It was a gesture full of teenage bravado, "Great."

The other boys face lit up with mischievous enthusiasm and he leant forwards,

"Do share-"

"Are you two plotting again?" A female voice asked as she approached, her footsteps leaving fine imprints in the sand. She handed a blue iced drink to Sabina and sat down on Taylor's lounger with her own as she eyed the pair of them carefully.

"I don't plot. I do, babe." Taylor responded with a grin, Alex laughed and recapped the bottle he was holding, wiping the other more greasy hand on his shorts. Sabina gave him a smile as he placed the bottle back and moved to lay on the lounger beside him. She clasped his hand gently and Alex didn't remove it. Tia, the girl who had taken up residence on Taylor's sun lounger looked over with a smile as she looped Taylors arm under her neck.

"You two are a cute couple." She noted, Sabina beamed and Alex shut his eyes behind his sunglasses. It was still odd to hear things like that, "What's going to happen when you go to college?"

Sabina looked back at Alex and shrugged, "I don't know where I'm going yet. I've sent out a few applications, but nothing is set in stone."

"Where too?" Taylor asked, Alex knew he already had his application confirmed from Harvard. Taylor was an exceptional student and Alex hadn't been surprised to find out he wanted to study law.

"A few Drama schools." Sabina responded, "Dad wanted me to go into journalism. But I decided a while ago, it wasn't the route for me. I don't want to root around in people's trash."

Taylor laughed and Tia nodded, "That would be gross. Plus you totally have a screen name."

"Sabina Pleasure, actress extraordinaire." Taylor pronounced with a wave of a hand above him. Sabina laughed,

"I'm not sure I've got a place yet, I've already had a couple of rejections. But when I get my Oscar I'll make sure to mention you." She responded. Taylor grinned and launched into a lengthy mock acceptance speech and Alex listened intently, laughing in all the right places until Sabina sat herself upright on the lounger. Taylor looked almost disappointed as Tia copied the movement,

"You two off?" he asked,

"Nah, swim time." She responded as she placed a peck on his lips. Taylor waggled his eyebrows at her and she turned away with a sly smile. Sabina mimicked her, placing a chaste kiss on Alex's own lips before the pair ran down to the water. He watched them go with an impassive face, it seemed strangely reminiscent of a movie he had seen before.

He was pulled from his momentary distraction when Taylor flicked a piece of ice from Tia's drink at him,

"Penny for your thoughts dude?" Taylor asked, Alex just arranged an easy smile on his face and shook his head, "Like I need to ask with a hot bird like that on your arm."

Alex stopped for a second to think over the comment before he frowned,

"What?"

"You and Sabina man, she's hot. Like flaming." Taylor replied as he lowered his sunglasses over his eyes. Alex turned his eyes back down to the water and watched the two girls swimming out to the safety buoy.

"I suppose." Alex replied absentmindedly. "Are you and Tia together now then?"

Taylor smirked and raised both hands behind his head, "Nope."

"But she seems-"

"Yeah she thinks so, I think." Taylor said the smirk never leaving his face, Alex looked over with a confused look. "It's nothing serious from my side. Think about it, Tia and Taylor? It sounds like a bad sitcom."

"I thought you-"

"Oh yeah." Taylor said lazily, "We do that. It's just nothing serious."

"But she seems to think it is?" Alex asked, Taylor nodded slowly turning his head to look at the blonde.

"Sometimes you just have to play along you know?"

There was a long pause and Alex restrained his frown. He took a moment to process the words, before he spoke.

"Do you not feel guilty?" Alex asked, it was a genuinely curious question and Taylor lifted his glasses to look at the blonde properly,

"Nah, man. She's getting what she wants. I'm not going to lie and say it will be forever because it won't and she's lot more bearable than some of the others." Taylor explained calmly. Alex turned his eyes back to the water where the two girls were involved in an innocent water fight, their laughs drifting back up the beach towards them.

"When you going to ditch her then?" Alex asked, he wasn't sure why he was interested, things like this weren't normally the topic of conversation with the young adult beside him, they normally stuck to sports, school and computer games.

"When something else comes up that will keep me more occupied." It was spoken with such a casual tone that Alex felt a hint of indignance on the girl's behalf, "I can't pretend forever."

"Still-"

"Look at it this way Alex." Taylor said with a gesture of his hands, there was a slight hint of pleading to his tone and Alex wondered if he really felt bad for what he was doing. "She wanted it. I wanted it. She wanted more. I'll give her more to entertain that notion until such a time I feel I can't."

This time the pause was longer, more drawn out and Alex wondered if he supposed to respond.

"Besides, it's not like I signed a contract or anything." Taylor remarked, it was spoke in a joking tone and Alex smiled slightly, "Could you imagine?"

Taylor got to the floor on one knee and held out a hand, "I Taylor Knowles, will shag you Tia Amirez, become your husband and love you forever and ever, until death do us part. Please sign here."

This time Alex did laugh, remembering back to when him and Tom had once had to read a scene from Romeo and Juliet for a class, that progressed in much the same way. His laughter broke off quickly, as the thought caused a small pang in his chest and suddenly he missed what little he had left behind. Taylor just scoffed and threw himself back down on his own lounger, he stretched, his torso gleaning slightly in the mid-day sun as he looked at Alex.

"I mean, seriously, who believes in that happily ever after bullshit anyway."

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><p>Alex led on his bed staring up at the ceiling of his room. The sun was just setting and the room was gradually growing dimmer, lengthening shadows were clawing their way towards him on the paintwork, and for a moment he wondered what it would be like to just submit to it.<p>

The conversation with Taylor had left a stale taste in his mouth, when he realised that while it may not have been to the same extreme, the attitude Taylor had was no different to that of Blunt when Alex had worked for them.

He had watched with no lack of bitterness as they had eaten their meal after abandoning the beach. Taylor had laughed, talked and openly flirted with no sign whatsoever that it was an act. In fact they had looked almost like the perfect young couple, hopelessly caught up in each other and enjoying life to the best of their ability.

Alex liked to think it wasn't fake. His mind firmly insisted it was.

Half way through their food Alex had felt the familiar feeling of solitary creeping up on him, and the memories of England and his previous life had returned to him full force. He hadn't noticed the expectant look Sabina had given him when he had picked absentmindedly at his own food after Taylor had fed Tia a chip, neither did he react all that much to the hand that had somehow worked its way onto his thigh throughout the meal.

His mind was occupied, and it seemed when that happened, there was no way for anything to interfere.

It was only when the bill had been paid for that Alex felt restless, he felt twitchy, he knew what it meant. Tia and Taylor walked in the opposite direction at the end of the street with waves and smiles and promises to meet up the next day and Alex had wanted to run as fast as possible in the opposite direction just to be alone for two minutes.

Instead, Sabina and he had walked in silence, but he didn't mind and neither did she it would seem, she was perfectly content to walk just holding his hand. He had made an excuse and disappeared to his room the minute they had walked in the house.

He didn't worry whether it was believable or not. He just needed a minute or two to re-associate with himself, it would get rid of the restlessness and twitchiness that seemed to be happening more and more recently.

He knew it wasn't healthy, to encourage old memories to resurface. Especially not these, but he shut his eyes anyway and dredged up _that_ particular day in his mind. It appeared with startling clarity. It turned out his sense for remembering details and linking dots served a purpose after all.

Even if it was unconventional one.

The image he saw was all too familiar, the Land Rover driving out of the fort, seeming to move slower as his mind processed each action, but the truck picked up speed as it moved.

He knew what was coming, but he still didn't pull himself away. He could, but this was the only memory he remembered fully.

None of the others, not the times they had gone on picnics, the birthday parties that had been arranged or even the Christmases spent lounging around with colourful decorations surrounding them, were as vivid as this. _This_ was his only, really vivid memory, the only one he could remember every word of and understand fully without twisting and interpreting it into something other than what it was.

It had come, originally in the nightmares. It now came easily, whenever he needed to relieve that pressure life placed on him.

He melded his lips around the word that was unspoken in the silence of his room,

_Please. Don't._

Alex could see the face as clear as day, he encountered it every time he looked in the mirror. And he continued to watch through closed eyes as the Land Rover continued its journey. Julius, or was it himself, Alex wasn't sure anymore, stepped into his line of sight, a smirk on his face, leaning forwards and holding up the remote in his hand so it was right in front of his face. The button was pushed, slowly. A lot slower than it should have been.

Alex took a deep breath as the giant ball of fire of red and orange flames played out beneath his eyelids. He couldn't stop the one tear the escaped from behind his closed eyes, but then he didn't really try to stop it.

Ian would have been ashamed.

But the tiny receptors on the skin of his cheek felt as that tiny, almost insignificant droplet rolled down his cheeks and Alex took a deep breath, lavishing the feeling of actually being able to _feel something._

In the back of his mind, a quote from a history class of past, his past, even though he now felt a million miles away, came to mind.

"_What an insidious drug memory can be. _

_Especially the memory of unhappiness."_

He hadn't understood that back then, he had been young. Or at least it had felt like he was, and between football, friends and long summer day weekends it had been hard to process such a dismal connotation of life.

Now he understood perfectly. It was addictive, and the small high that followed the replay of this memory, soon gave way to a pain so deep that he welcomed it as something to help him break that shell that he seemed to play so well, he fooled even himself.

He clung desperately to that feeling, and listening intently to the silence that surrounded him. His chest rose and fell slowly with each calming breath he took, the overwhelming tiredness he had been feeling recently, threatened to overcome him.

It was with the greatest of self control that he pulled himself off the bed and made his way downstairs. The sound of the TV came from the lounge and Alex silently peeked his head into the opening. Only Edward and Liz were sat there, he took a moment of consideration before heading for the front door.

Sure enough, Sabina was sat on the porch swing with a blanket covering her legs and a book held in her hand. Alex watched her for a second, envying the innocence she was portraying before green eyes turned to him and a smile alighted her face. She moved her feet and Alex took the silent invitation before dropping himself beside her.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" she asked with a broad smile. Alex looked at her for a second, she really was beautiful. That smile used to be enough to brighten any room she had walked into, now he felt only guilt when he looked at it. He shrugged.

The smile dimmed a little.

Sabina shut her book and placed it to her side, before shifting on the swing and moving a little closer to him. Her hand once again came to rest against his leg and Alex, who just moments before, had been lavishing in the feel of being himself allowed it to happen.

Anything, to avoid suspicion.

"What are you thinking about?" Sabina asked quietly, Alex blinked, a lie forming in his throat in almost an instant.

"Taylor."

Sabina raised an eyebrow at that, and she laughed softly, "Should I be worried?"

Alex shook his head mutely and Sabina moved her fingers gently over the fabric of his jeans, if he could have connected that feeling to his mind he would have dubbed it comforting, as it was he just felt numb.

"What did he say this time?" She asked, Alex shrugged not wanting to divulge information that he believed had been spoken in confidence and Sabina smirked, "About Tia right?"

Alex blinked in surprise,

"She knows." Sabina said bluntly. Alex gave her a sceptical look and gestured for her to continue, "That he's using her. She's alright with it."

"Why?"

"Don't get me wrong, she does like him. Really, really like him." Sabina explained slowly, Alex turned his gaze to the floor with a frown, "But, as she told me, nothing comes without sacrifice. She knows he'll move on eventually but for the time being for her, those small moments of feeling are enough."

"What do you think?" Alex asked,

"Personally," Sabina mused as she leant back a little on the bed, "I think it's fucked up. I mean, how can you act like that around someone but mean the complete opposite. I suppose I'm just worried she's going to get hurt."

Alex nodded slowly, "What did she say?"

"She didn't." Sabina replied with a grim smile, "I haven't said anything to her-"

"_Kids, Dinner!"_

Alex looked to the front door when he heard the shout and Sabina patted his leg gently as she got up., She draped the blanket over her arm and held out a hand to him expectantly. He felt lingering guilt build in his stomach as he thought over her words. He pushed it away with a rough swipe of his mind, assuring himself everything he was doing was the best way to protect the people around him and he concentrated, and willed, for feeling to come from the simple contact of her hand.

Sabina stopped just in front of the door she pulled his arms around her, into something that vaguely resembled an embrace.

Alex wondered why his body didn't feel like his own anymore.

She kissed his lips gently and whispered something in his ear that he didn't pay attention to.

He smiled and acted as though everything was alright, being led inside when another call came for dinner.

Alex walked silently, his face arranged carefully into the innocent ignorance of a teenager and he took his seat beside Edward Pleasure with a small nod. Sabina sat opposite him and a joint of lamb was deposited in the middle of the table.

"Sabina." Liz said, Edward pleasure started to cut the meat. Alex could see the red tinge inside of the perfectly cooked joint, "You had mail today."

Sabina quickly pushed her chair away and moved to the hallway, Alex heard the rustle of magazines as she looked for the letter and it was a few seconds later that Sabina walked back in with an envelope in her grasp.

It must have been important, Alex mused, as she hadn't waited to be seated back at the table before opening it.

Edward placed two slices of lamb on the plate in front of him and Alex looked at it for a second, before drawing his attention back to Sabina when she all but screamed. He tensed, but the smile on her face was large and she shoved the piece of paper towards her mother.

"I got in!" she cheered and she wrapped her arms around her mother's shoulders were she was sat. Edward pleasure smiled as he continued to slice the roast lamb,

"Which one dear?" he asked with a bemused smile. Sabina looked up at him with a smile wider than Alex had ever seen.

"The Royal College of performing Arts. Term starts in September."

Alex blinked, he knew that name and he was sure there should have been some feeling instigated at the thought of it. There wasn't.

"Well done darling," Liz congratulated as Sabina sat back down with a joyous air,

"They've invited me to visit. So I can check the facilities." Sabina explained as she passed her mother the letter.

"You have spring break in two months. I'll look for flights then," Edward agreed, Sabina beamed at him, and there was a moment of silence as they all turned to look at Alex. He picked up his fork and smiled,

"Congratulations Sab," he said with such enthusiasm, it surprised even himself. The girl suddenly looked immensely reassured and started to talk faster than Alex's reeling mind could keep up with. Instead he looked back down at the meal in front of him and poked at the slice of lamb with his fork.

Even if he wasn't familiar with the name of the Drama school two things would have stuck out like a sore thumb.

The first was the fact term started in September – Sabina was a senior but she wouldn't have been going to college here for another year yet.

And the second was the one that he was neither happy nor displeased at, the word Royal. There were very few places in the world that still maintained a monarchy, but in the land of afternoon tea served with cucumber sandwiches and James _fucking_ Bond, it was a proud and joyous tradition.

But in the head of the first and, as far as he knew, only, teenage spy, there was just an echo of another conversation that had happened almost two years ago over a very similar meal. He smiled sardonically as he pushed the food around the plate aimlessly, listening with one ear to the talk around him as he remembered the thought that had lingered after that conversation.

Dead meat, indeed.


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi all :D**

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews so far! For all those that haven't got a reply yet, I'm just about to disappear off and do so. But guess what?**

**I actually managed to wait a WHOLE week like I originally planned to post lol. Two reasons for this: **

**1 - Most of the chapters going forwards have both Alex and/or Ben in them. There's only two that don't, I think. **

**2 - I'm not as up together with the next multichip as I had hoped – but rest assured it is getting there! It's just shocking how bad my writing/characterisation was when I first started it, so it's taking a lot of re-work on some chapters.**

**Anyway, as Speechbubble said in her last review, we're back with Ben today :D and another OC, but don't worry too much about that. Not all my OC's will be in future fic's so if you don't take to them please don't hesitate to tell me!**

**Right, so on with the chapter then. Happy reading all! :D**

**Shush x**

**P.S – Speech, I was going to question if you were psychic for a minute... then I remembered I'd sent you the listing for the chapters . **

**Disclaimer: **I still own nothing.

**Warnings: **Language

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><p>"<em>By three methods we may learn wisdom:<em>

_First, by reflection, which is noblest;_

_Second, by imitation, which is easiest;_

_And third by experience, which is the bitterest."_

_**Confucius**_

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><p>"Your file, Agent Daniels." Mrs Jones said as she slid the file across to him. Ben hardly even glanced at before lifting it and placing it on his lap.<p>

"You understand your objective?" She asked curtly, Ben nodded, carefully taking in the tenseness of her actions. He was hardly surprised that she was acting in the way she was. The implications of an intelligence leak at Special Operations were likely to be disastrous. He could only imagine what would happen if the public found out about half the things that happened here. Even he would admit some of it was beyond the believable.

This was to be his first case since his return. The training he had received this time around was more extensive, a full 3 months compared to meagre 4 weeks he had received before being shipped out last time. It covered everything from field expertise through to the seemingly never ending paper trail a case would take before it even reached an agent's desk.

Ben would begrudgingly admit it was interesting and he had found himself hooked to the mind challenging problems, theories and codes he was given to solve.

Through all of that though, it had seemed a little excessive for _just_ a secondment and he couldn't help but be wary of exactly what SO wanted with him or rather from him, would probably be the more fitting phrase.

"I believe Smithers wished to see you." Mrs Jones dismissed, Ben stood, concealing the slight hint of amusement that appeared at the thought of the chubby genius and he walked to the door without a further word.

He walked into the plush carpeted hall, and gave a smile to the receptionist sat behind the desk that was eagerly returned by the young lady as he passed her.

It was strange, he would admit, that this time nothing seemed as tense as before, there were certainly a lot less people around than previously, that much he had noted with eager eyes. There weren't groups of agents huddled together in small groups in the staff canteen, nor were there the obtuse glares he had received when he was here before. Ben wanted to know what had changed.

He jabbed the button for the lift and watched as a cleaner left one of the offices a bit further down the hall, pushing her trolley in front of her. It was hard to believe that somewhere, somehow information was being leaked from this particular building. He knew the vetting procedure that took place before you were even allowed to step foot beyond the banking hall, and all the security procedures between there and whichever office you were designated to be visiting. And it wasn't just the visitors that were susceptible. It was everyone, from Jones right the way down to the cleaner that was currently unlocking another office.

Ben entered the lift when the stainless steel doors slid open and looked to the other occupant who was leaning against one of the mirrored walls with a file open in one hand. He pushed the button for the second floor, deeming to get a coffee on his way down to the basement to his summons and the agent looked up with a small smile as the quiet beep from the button cast into the air.

"Sly coffee break, Daniels?"

Ben smirked and looked over at the woman who had flicked the file shut and stood up from her previously casual stance. She was one of the few agents that had been present in his training, there had been only a couple of them in each tutorial, and she had probably been the most surprising candidate.

It wasn't surprising because she was female, Ben was fully aware that there were woman agents who performed admirably in the field, but the fact that she was everything you didn't expect from a world that relied not only on mental capability, but also physical prowess.

Ben looked her over, she must have only just been at around the five foot mark, short, gel styled - but not masculine blonde hair and a frame so slight, he figured he could probably snap one arm with the flick of a wrist. The only way he could describe her was like an elf, she had a boyish face and hazel eyes that permanently looked mischievous, but beyond that physicality was a keen mind that was quick on the uptake and a mental logic that had allowed her to excel within the problem solving training they had undertook under the watchful eye of an experienced agent.

"You got your first?" she asked with a nod at the file in his hand.

"Yeah." He agreed, "Quite a big one too."

"I bet." She replied with a devious smirk, Ben rolled his eyes

"Get your mind out of the gutter Sheath."

"But where would I put it otherwise?" Sheath countered with a smirk, her eyes crinkled slightly and mirth and Ben shook his head exasperatedly.

This was one of the few things that had made them partners in many of the exercises in their training. She seemed to have a mind that although quick and witty, never took anything _too _seriously and the light hearted banter had made the duller sessions that little bit more interesting. If he hadn't discovered earlier on that she had military background with the army, he would have wondered if her _almost_ innocent demeanour was due to naivety.

"I just got internal." Sheath admitted with a sigh, waving the file slightly in one hand, "Demery's thrown me in with Hillman until I'm fit for the more physical stuff."

"Probably a good idea." Ben agreed with a thoughtful look, she gave him a glare.

"I'm not that bad."

"Nah, you're quick I'll give you that." Ben admitted. Sheath shrugged,

"I'm five foot nothing with no bloody weight behind me. What else was I supposed to do when you tried to punch me?" She asked. Ben laughed as the lift doors opened on the second floor, the pair walked out and into the canteen just down the way.

"I can give you a few pointers between your training?" Ben offered as he grabbed two coffee cups from the rack. Sheath looked thoughtful for a second,

"If you can find time away from being James Bond that would be great." She admitted, Ben smiled and tipped the boiling water into his mug.

"Between being a soldier," Ben corrected, "I'm only here temporarily."

Sheath looked around at him with a slightly surprised expression, "Really?"

"Yeah. Secondment,"

"I never would have guessed. You seem to be more comfortable here than most of the other agent's." Sheath stated as she grabbed the milk from the fridge, Ben frowned and looked around the room. He couldn't really deny that the plush surroundings of the bank were more comfortable than the Welsh training ground. But then again, they had edible food and heating here, so it was an unfair advantage.

Sheath wrapped her hands around her cup and leant back against the counter as Ben refilled the kettle, "So, you're just doing this one?"

"Yeah." Ben admitted,

"Damn." Sheath muttered with a half smile, "Who am I going to shamelessly flirt with when you leave?"

"Crawley?" Ben offered with a grin. Sheath blanched,

"Dear God." Sheath muttered as she shook her head and pinched her nose, "Don't, ever, say anything like that again."

Ben laughed as the woman picked up her file and tucked it under one arm, "I got to get back to the office. Might see you again, but if not, good luck with your assignment."

"And you." Ben called as she walked towards the door of the canteen, she pushed it open with her back and offered him a small smile and wave as she turned back towards the lifts. Ben lifted the two cups of coffee, his black with no sugar, and Smithers', white with three if he remembered rightly, tucking his own file under one arm before turning for the door. Demery was stood behind him with a bemused expression,

"See you're getting on well with our new lassie." Demery stated, Ben felt himself turn slightly red and Demery laughed, "It's only natural Daniels. She's not bad looking."

Ben didn't really know what to say to that so he just shrugged, in his mind he just got along well with people, in much the same way he had always done. It just seemed to come naturally. It had served purpose in all areas up until now, either by gaining trust of a terrified civilian on tour or bagging that girl that Wolf had been eying up at the bar back in basic training. He was just good with people.

Ben felt his mood dip slightly as he thought of his unit and wondered what he would be walking back into once this assignment was done with. It wasn't going to be as easy as that conversation with Sheath, that much was for sure.

Demery was looking at him with a curious look and Ben smiled slightly and pushed the thought to one side as the man grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, he turned back to Ben with a slight frown.

"Walk with me, Daniels." Demery stated, it wasn't phased as a question and Ben found he didn't really mind. He had found the man pleasant so far, at least in the little interaction he'd had with him, and it would provide a willing distraction from the thoughts of the harsh confrontation that would probably follow his return to unit.

"I hear you're doing well so far," Demery complimented as they walked from the canteen and back towards the lift. Ben nodded and Demery gestured for him to enter the lift first when the doors opened. "Are you enjoying it?"

Ben hesitated before answering. What should he say? Yes and potentially open himself to being obligated to being poached again, or lie through his teeth and say no. He settled for neither.

"It's different."

"That it is." Demery agreed, "You have to think for yourself here."

Ben should have retaliated. Should have defended the job he had held for the last year and a bit. He couldn't deny the freedom of opinion and thought was refreshing though, and when he looked at Demery, the smirk on his face told Ben that the man _knew_ it was a welcome change. Ben settled for a slight smile instead of spoken response.

There was a moments silence and Ben heard the electrical whir of the scanners working behind the glass panel, checking them for any concealed weapons as they headed down to the sub basement level of the Royal and General.

"You're going to see Smithers?" Demery asked, when he received a confirming nod he smiled again, "Good man him, he gets to hear a lot of the going's on here."

Ben paused for a second, wondering exactly what the statement meant, Demery however continued.

"I was looking to speak to you in fact. I was going to wait until after the case you have been assigned." Demery explained. He paused as the lift doors opened, and the pair walked out and down the clean cut corridor towards Smither's office.

"Go on." Ben prompted,

"Ever curious Daniels," Demery laughed and they turned down a separate corridor. He paused as two men passed, "It's good to be direct. I hate the beating around the bush bullshit that seems to happen a lot of time here."

Ben concealed a guffaw of laughter at the high ranking officials choice of words, and the man gave him a wry smile but continued nonetheless,

"I genuinely believe your abilities would do very well here, Daniels."

The humorous part of Ben's mind that remained from the light banter with Sheath, dropped away almost immediately with those words. They were so similar to what he had heard when Crawley had approached him before. But as Ben looked over, he didn't pick up on any of the signals he had from Crawley.

Demery didn't seem deceitful, or overly confident in being able to get what he wanted.

In fact, Ben would say he seemed downright normal.

It was just the surroundings that made him seem _abnormal._

Ben's immediate reaction was a direct negative, the outcome of the Snakehead assignment still his freshest memory, the knowledge he had obtained there still seemed to be enough to abstain from a career switch regardless of the interest, comfortableness and people he had met here.

"I would have to consider it." Ben responded, Demery nodded and they paused outside of the door that concealed Smither's latest workshop.

"Of course. It's food for thought more than anything," Demery agreed. Ben nodded and reached for the handle on the door, "If you have any questions, I'll gladly answer what I can. Any other information you would have to gather yourself."

"Thank you, sir."

"I am sure you have your wits enough about you to able to be able to obtain any information I can't give you." Demery responded, Ben frowned as he thought it sounded like a challenge. Demery's smile returned, "God knows there is enough of a gossip stream here to find out."

Ben watched the man's back with a slightly confused face as he walked away, and Ben shook his head at the man's slightly incessant musings before pushing the door to Smither's office open.

Ben moved through the steel topped table's that were spread out all across the room. Normally he would have been intrigued by what the man had come up with recently, but his mind was occupied by the words Demery had spoken . It had been a rather strange conversation, light hearted and comfortable the same as the previous ones he had held with the man, but there seemed to be something else under it some-

_Bang!_

Ben snapped his head up to see a large figure stood to one side, waving a chubby arm over the top of a steady plume of smoke.

"Ah, Smithers you muppet." A familiar voice exclaimed, Ben couldn't help the chuckle that left his lips when he heard the improvised curse. The man turned to him and Ben walked over, offering the coffee cup in his hand to the man.

"Daniels!" He exclaimed, taking the drink with a surprised expression before his face split into a smile so large Ben thought it would crack. "How are you my dear boy? I haven't seen you since Australia!"

Ben almost cringed at the reminder of his involvement in that, and his smile must have faltered for a second for Smithers too seemed to drop a beat in manner. He paid it no heed and looked onto the table the man was working at with a curious eye.

Smithers was one of his favourite people here, the man had a way of brightening up a room with his cheery demeanour. He evened proved a good ear for a rant if it was ever needed, as Ben had found out in Darwin. He felt heat rise in his cheeks as he thought over that moment he'd had with the man and he picked up the iPod that was emitting a small lingering stream of smoke from the table as a way of distraction.

"What does this do?" Ben asked, Smithers took it from his hand with chubby fingers and placed it in a cupboard above the table almost reverently. Ben spotted the other gadgets inside, eyes moving swiftly over the DS that was leant up in one corner, and numerous other objects, most of which were brightly coloured knick knacks or toys and even a couple of books. Ben immediately knew who they were for, and Smithers shut the cupboard quickly when he saw Ben looking inside.

"Nothing, old bean. Come. Come sit." Smithers said with a slightly wistful smile. It was out of character for the man and Ben felt himself frown as he followed Smithers over to the seating area. He dropped himself onto the opposite sofa as Smithers, which groaned as the large man sat down and placed his coffee on the small table in front of him.

"So what brings you back to our secret little world, Daniels?" Smithers asked, the beaming smile was back on his face and Ben wondered for a second if he had imagined it. He didn't want to ask. It would only cloud his judgement for the upcoming case.

"Secondment again," Ben explained Smithers nodded enthusiastically, "Demery approached me about three months ago."

"Ah, he's a good man that one. Been working with him for years on and off, you know he was once SAS?" Smithers asked, Ben smiled and nodded, "Yes, quite a high rank I believe, I was most thrilled when he took Jones position."

"He actually seems alright. Better than Crawley was anyway." Ben admitted, Smithers laughed, it was a booming noise and Ben smiled. The inventors attitude really was quite infectious.

"My boy, anyone is better or easier to talk to than Crawley." Smithers leant forwards, "I sometimes wonder if he even breaths."

It was the way it was whispered like a secret that made Ben grin. Smithers smiled as Ben relaxed back against the sofa,

"But Demery definitely has a good head on his shoulders. He fights for what he believes in." Smithers agreed, "Which brings me to my next question actually!"

Ben raised an eyebrow in question, causing the man opposite him to chuckle, his three chins moving of their own accord as he did so,

"What changed your mind?" Smithers asked, Ben felt himself falter at that. The large man was all too aware of his thoughts of Special Operations, Ben himself had voiced them out of sheer frustration during their search for _him. _

In the weeks that had followed the Dragon Nine raid, Ben had been more than a little lost for cause. He openly admitted it, but the lack of permission to talk about it had meant he couldn't turn to the three people he normally would have done for advice. Instead he had slugged through on his own, looking, watching and steadily re-evaluating.

It had taken a long time for him to realise after his return to the SAS and being firmly back into his rank in the military, to realise he was a soldier, not a judge. He wasn't the one who made the conscious choices, and although he never became fully comfortable with the idea, it became a lot easier to forget under that belief.

But had Ben really dropped his morals, his belief that a teenager shouldn't be working for the government, because he was bored of being held in place?

Smithers gave him an understanding look, one that again, was slightly wistful and Ben frowned at the man's reaction.

"That was tactless of me." Smithers stated,

"No. It was a fair question, I didn't actually think too much on it." Ben said quickly. Smithers nodded and gestured to the cupboard Ben had seen the contents of.

"As you noticed, nostalgia effects us all at some point, my boy."

Ben felt as though the air had been pushed out of him for a second as he listened to the words and suddenly the wistful looks and solemn attitude of the normally cheerful man clicked into sense. Ben almost didn't want to ask, not after he had such a light hearted conversation just mere moments before. But this was something he _needed _to know, and he knew his curiosity would stake out the truth eventually anyway.

"What's happened to Alex?"

"Oh," Smithers said slowly, Ben watched his reaction his face was a little down yes, but it didn't seem absolutely devastated. "You didn't know? I thought you would have been informed considering your last involvement-"

"Just tell me." Ben said calmly, it completely belied what he was feeling. The silence around them was heavy, and Smithers stilled in his explanation, his cheeks turning red as he nodded.

"Jones dropped him." Smithers said, "The minute Blunt was out. She wrote his files off to the archive and denied anyone other than herself and Demery access to them. He hasn't worked an assignment since July last year. It's awfully selfish of me to be so down about it, really."

Ben blinked once, before he burst into laughter. It wasn't even remotely funny, not by a long stretch but he really didn't know what else to do. It wasn't until the relief he felt had left that he was able to calm himself down enough for Smithers to talk again. When he did Smithers had an amused smile on his face.

"Feel better for that?"

"Yeah." Ben admitted, "It makes Demery's offer a little easier to think about."

"Offer?" Smithers asked with genuine interest. Ben smiled and explained about their brief chat, the inventor looked genuinely excited and started to discuss an idea for a gadget Ben could use. Ben just listened in idly as he thought back over the earlier conversation's. The way Sheath had highlighted he seemed comfortable, the way the conversation flowed easily with Demery and the way that he was now considering the man's offer as maybe, just a little bit viable, if he wasn't working against his own morals.

As Snake had once told him, it's hard to win a war, if you are your own worst enemy.

There was a brief silence and Ben looked up to see Smithers looking at him with an expectant face.

"Uh, sorry. What?" Ben asked, feeling a little stupid for have zoned out. Smithers chuckled,

"I said, it would be good to have you on board. It's rare I get anyone in here nowadays that knows how to laugh." Smithers explained calmly, Ben smiled and looked thoughtful for a second.

"I'm not saying yes yet," Ben stated, Smithers nodded the smile never leaving his face. "But hearing that makes it a little easier to consider."

"To judge the actions of many, upon the choices of one is both unrealistic and unjust." Smithers said with a sage tone. "I think you would find Daniels that many people in this establishment shared your view and I can assure you now that the blanket ban Jones imposed was resolute. You will never have to "work under fucking intolerable orders and put up with the higher ups bullshit," ever again."

Ben felt his cheeks burn, as the words he had used to describe the situation with Alex were quoted back to him and there was a light knock on the door. It opened a second later and Demery walked in,

"Ah, Craig you old mucker!" Smithers exclaimed loudly. Demery laughed and walked over to where the pair were sat.

"I was wondering if I can borrow Agent Daniels. We need to throw some ideas around for his cover." Demery explained, Ben pushed himself to his feet and shook Smithers hand when it was offered.

"In that case," Smithers said as he shook the appendage enthusiastically, "I hope to see you around, my boy."

"You too Mr Smithers." Ben turned towards Demery, who was watching the pairs interaction with careful eyes, before he started towards the door. Ben followed after him, not feeling quite so bad about the fact that, secretly, he had enjoyed the training and the company it provided.

His mind also seemed slightly more accepting that, maybe, the guys would understand. Ben remembered Wolf's reaction to the secondment, and felt that acceptance slip slightly. But he was a people person, and he would bring Wolf round eventually.

He hoped.


	9. Chapter 9

**Hello again! **

**Alright, so just a quick one today: thank you for all the reviews from everyone, got to love opening my inbox to seeing them.**

**A huge thanks especially to the ever fabulous Speech, who seems to be shaping some of the follow up stories to this with each review – and even inspiring more than a few new plotlines/scenes.**

**Anyways, I can only apologise for this one. It was damn hard to write lol, but hopefully you might find parts of it you like.**

**Take care all!**

**Shush x **

**Disclaimer: **I own no more than I did last week, but no less either :P

**Warnings: **Just a little language in this one.

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><p>"<em>Rejoicing in our joy, not suffering over our suffering, makes someone a friend."<em>

_**Friedrich Nietzsche**_

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><p>"<em>Designer wears at discounted prices. We have Prada and Gucci on offer at under tw<em>_enty quid a go!" _

"_Flowers, sound for a pound. You want some for the lovely lady?"_

"_Fresh meat! Get your fresh meat here, delivered just this morning, direct from Norfolk."_

The market vendors were trying to peddle their wares and Alex eyed each of them as he passed. The noise of Camden market was doing absolutely nothing to soothe him, the rain that was just being held back was making the air feel heavy. The heat from the congregated people was making the city air almost stagnant and he wondered why people would choose to take a holiday to this country.

But then he had wondered the same about other places he had visited.

The market place was strangely reminiscent of Cairo, the furious bidding for attention, the constant buzz and colours melded together, but the sun wasn't making them glare like it had in Egypt.

Instead everything seemed duller here, everything seemed more natural.

The edge he had been feeling since their touchdown on the small island had abated only a little. He had been _expecting_ to be dragged into a side room under some notion of legality and be confronted with faces he had no intention of ever seeing again.

But then, as he had learned a long time ago, from all the times he had _expected _Ian to be home for his birthday, or he had _expected_ to be able to get on with life, with normalcy, that expectations were but hope of fears in disguise.

The small moment of reprieve he experienced, as he walked out of the airport with a suitcase in hand towards the car rental lobby, had allowed him to think that maybe, just maybe, he might make it through this little holiday without any concerns.

His last contact with MI6 had been finite after all.

He had nothing to worry about.

But it didn't hurt to be cautious.

Alex felt his arm being dragged to one side and allowed himself to be led over to a CD stand, Sabina promptly picked up an album and started to read through the back of it. He took a moment to look around the familiar city, and the small pang he felt in his stomach he put down to nostalgia.

As much as he hated to admit it, he felt comfortable here.

There was something about London, about the way people moved without paying any heed to anybody else, to busy with their own lives to worry about that shopping bag that had just hit his legs, too arrogant to worry if he drifted off on his own with a downcast face.

Somebody, one of Jack's college friends, had once told him that the high flying life in "The City" was lonely.

He was prone to agree, but it wasn't in a detrimental way. Instead he found the self-involvement of the people easier to work with, he could have been left alone here. The thought was surprisingly welcome and even more bitter when he thought about the upcoming departure.

They were only here for a week, Sabina had her meeting at the prestigious college tomorrow and the Pleasures were looking into the potential for viable business options for Liz and editor positions for Edward. Both had pledged their support to her, if she felt it was the correct place for further education.

He'd expected no less from them and of course he had played his part well. Agreeing with their sentiments and pushing away their fears when they were _finally _vocalised rather than hidden behind concerned looks and hushed words. He'd reassured them with all the enthusiasm of a homesick teenager, that he didn't mind, that it would be nice to see England again and that, at the first sign of trouble he would tell Edward and he would deal with it.

Alex thought odds of two out of three weren't bad.

He'd listened as each of them had spoken about the possibility of life back in England, and went to assessing his own. It was then the realisation that he didn't have a definite answer, no specific cause, no particular outcome that he wanted to work towards. He wasn't sure how he felt about that fact, instead doing what he did best and ignoring the uncomfortable notion that he had never expected to have a future to work towards. Instead he concentrated on the small hint ofsadistic irony that was there at the thought of moving back.

Sabina turned to him with a small bag in her grasp and she gave him a broad grin. Alex looked at the bag with an interested eye, she promptly ducked it behind her back and winked at him.

"It's a surprise." She whispered with a mischievous look. Alex blinked. A surprise? His birthday had been last month, and he found himself curious as to what exactly was in the bag. The small emotion played insistently at the back of his mind as they continued their walk along the marketplace, taking in the pace of the city and merging in with the people.

He listened with an idle ear to her words as he watched the people they passed. The business man ignoring the stalls as he stalked to the office. The elderly woman that was pulling a trolley behind her that was no doubt filled with useless knick knacks but looked like a bargain. The woman with two kids looking harassed. The group of teenagers that were stood to one side of the stream of people, laughing and gesturing to different people as they passed.

Alex did a double take just after they had passed the group, his feet coming to an abrupt stop.

He stood in silence, eyes drifting over the group and he felt Sabina touch his shoulder. He jumped in surprise but didn't turn his head, instead his eyes were locked on one particular dark head of hair.

"Alex?" She said softly, when there was no response she shook his shoulder gently. "Alex!"

His name sounded surprisingly loud above the current lull in the stream of people and it caught the attention of one or two bystanders. Primarily, the one person he had been staring at the back of turned with a hopeful look.

There was no mistaking him in the slightest, he was a little taller, his hair a little more messy, his face a little more closed off but Alex was pinned to the spot when the flash of recognition appeared in those eyes. People started to move across his line of sight, but their eyes remained locked and Alex saw the multitude of emotions run across that face shifting from surprise to happiness to thoughtful before settling on indecision.

Alex swallowed heavily as one of the other teenager's friends called his attention back to the group. Sabina was trying to get his attention, he ignored her.

As the group of laughing teenagers moved off down the street, Tom Harris spared him one final look of alienated confusion before walking away.

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><p>Alex stood on the pavement at the front of the large red brick house. It had taken him an hour to get here from their hotel, two tube trips and one very cramped bus ride had given him a lot of time to think.<p>

He still wasn't sure if he was doing the right thing.

It had been almost 8 months since Alex had last seen him, and even with the subtle differences Alex would have recognised him anywhere. The differences, it appeared, extended to his home too.

There were no longer two cars in the drive, the for sale sign that had been placed months before Alex had left was gone and the curtains in the window were a different colour to the ones that had hung there before.

But most noted, was the one thing that had remained the same. Alex could see from his vantage point by the prim hedges that had been added near the pavement, the distinct shade of green that was on the walls just inside the window at the front of the house.

The poster that Alex had bought for Tom's 14th birthday was still visible, the clashing colour of the Arsenal red football shirts standing out from the paintwork like a sore thumb. Alex ducked when someone moved to window and looked out, and he took a deep breath.

This was a mistake.

Alex waited a few seconds, peaking his head over the top of the hedge before he turned and started the walk back down the street, on his way back to the bus stop. He slid his iPod headphones into his ears and instantly the calming effect of the music took hold.

Tom didn't need him.

Alex had known that much yesterday, he had seen the way the boy laughed when he was with others his own age and he found himself thinking back to times that he had been a part of that. Tom had once been one of the few lines to sanity he had, now it appeared Tom had cut that and gotten on with his life.

Alex felt the numbness spreading once again and he shut his eyes as he walked, he checked his pocket for his return travel tickets and tucked them into the back pocket of his jeans. Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket, he ducked his head as the rain that had been expected since yesterday started to fall.

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><p>Alex was in a bad mood. The confines of the hotel room were only making it worse and the concerned glances he was receiving from the Pleasure's were only irritating him further still.<p>

He had arrived back late to the hotel yesterday, breaking one of the rudimentary rules that they had set about a curfew.

He'd lost his second tube ticket, somewhere between Tom's and the bus stop, and had had to walk the last 12 miles between Brent Park tube station to their hotel near Heathrow airport. It had been a stupid mistake and he was angry with himself. Along the way he had passed Southall Park, it had been an impromptu decision of his to take a wander around the secluded area to try to clear his mind. It had helped, as he had walked through the once familiar area he remembered the few times Jack had all but forced Ian out on a picnic, and Alex had taken residence on a park bench to relive those memories for just a few minutes longer.

It turned out he had taken a lot more time than he had realised, the short evening had given way into night much earlier here than in San Francisco, and he had run the remaining distance in the rain back to the hotel when he realised his timing error.

What he walked into was nothing short of panic.

Sabina was sat in one of the chairs in the window, her eyes watching out of the window and Liz had an arm around her shoulders, whispering quiet, comforting words. Edward Pleasure was pacing with a mobile to his ear, talking frankly and abruptly to whoever was on the other end of the line and Alex had only had to hear one sentence to understand what they were all thinking.

"_I swear to god, if this is anything to do with you, I will drag you backwards through the courts." _

Alex had stood, dripping water onto the beige carpet, with his key card in one hand by the door. It was only when the wood closed behind him that Sabina looked up,

"Alex!" she had all but screamed before running over and hugging him tightly. He didn't react, he guessed it was because he was chilled to the bone, but his eyes were locked on Edward's while he hung up the phone abruptly.

The look of fury on the man's face was undeniable and Alex waited, willing to accept his punishment for worrying them. Edward had asked both of the females to leave the room, Sabina gave Alex a sympathetic look as they left the suite.

But much like all the times before, Edward had explained in a calm voice that belied his aura why they had been worried and that it was concern, knowing his past situation that caused the reactions.

Alex had been fuming when he went to bed, ignoring the calls to the lounge when Liz ordered him food, ignoring Sabina when she had knocked on his door and he tried desperately to placate himself with music.

He hadn't slept, but slowly the anger had abated and all that remained was a steady thrum of annoyance. Annoyance at the Pleasures and their treating him like a china doll, he was annoyed that their insistence of understanding him was making him feel less normal, annoyance that even though he had played his part faultlessly over the 6 months of acting like a teenager they weren't willing to let it go.

So he did the only thing he could when he was irritated, and annoyed at all the people confined to this damn room with him and headed for the door once again. Edward looked up from the morning paper he was reading with a frown,

"Where are you going Alex?" he asked, Alex stopped with his hand on the door and didn't turn his head for the scowl that was on it would only cause further sympathetic looks. Instead he yanked the handle down and walked out of it, throwing one word behind him in the process of doing so, before slamming the door closed after him.

"Out."

* * *

><p>Alex used the walk down to the lobby of the hotel to calm himself, his footsteps echoed around the silent hall and the frustration he felt at his current situation seemed to pound in rhythm with his footfalls.<p>

It had been a reaction that was all to synonymous with his old persona for his liking and he desperately wanted to get away just to clear his head and pull himself back into the character he had crafted in America.

It had been so much harder to maintain since being back here, in England. Alex was in the midst of cursing himself as the lift door that would release him into the lobby opened.

"I've already tried the Premier Inn. They've got to be here!" A voice exclaimed, "Just check again, it should be listed under either Rider or Starbright."

Alex froze when he heard her name spoken out loud and immediately his eyes drifted to the check in desk. A harassed looking blonde woman was sat at the desk and beside her a rather imposing man was stood with his arms across his chest. Alex could plainly see the dark blue managerial badge he was wearing.

"I've already told you sir, there is nobody here listed by either name." The manager spoke curtly obviously annoyed, "Now I must ask you to refrain from making a scene or I will be required to call security."

"But his tube ticket said Heathrow."

"Maybe your acquaintance –" the manager started,

"He's my best friend, not acquaintance." Tom snapped, a scowl on his face.

"Very well." The manager amended with a less that pleasant look on his face, "Maybe your "best friend" has already departed."

Alex didn't need to hear anymore, his feet had started moving towards the frustrated youth when the words "best friend" had left his mouth and Tom was just about to open his mouth against the managers mocking comeback when Alex grabbed his elbow and looked directly at him.

"Are you playing detective again Tom?" Alex asked, Tom just stared at him,

"I, uh – um." Tom stammered, Alex offered the manager a strained smile,

"Sorry. He can get a bit carried away." Alex said with a tug on Tom's elbow. The manager eyed the pair warily before nodding slightly, Alex wondered if it was a gesture of relief.

"So I can see." The manager muttered Alex took a step back and tugged Tom with him, backing away towards the door.

"Terribly sorry. Won't happen again." Alex called over his shoulder before all but dragging Tom out of the glass panelled doors. The dark haired teenager put up no resistance but once they reached the pavement he yanked his arm out of Alex's grip and stalked off down the street. Alex stilled and watched his retreating back, Tom glanced over his shoulder a second later.

"You coming?" Tom asked roughly, Alex paused for a second and debated with himself.

_He's my best friend_

It was remembering that one line that made him move.

* * *

><p>They had walked for almost 30 minutes without saying a word, until they reached a small park. Tom headed directly for the play area and took a seat on one of the swings, using his legs to push himself gently backwards and forwards.<p>

Alex couldn't help the tug at the corners of his lips at the childish trait. Tom looked at him for the first time since leaving the hotel.

"You sitting or what?" Tom snapped, Alex blinked in surprise. Tom had never used that tone before. But then he had never been in this situation before, he at least wanted to know what the dark haired teen was thinking, so hesitantly he took a seat. The pause didn't go unnoticed apparently.

Silence reigned for a long moment and Alex watched a man pushing a toddler on the baby swings on the opposite side of the play area.

"Why did you not knock yesterday?" Tom asked, Alex looked at him only to find blue eyes that had once been full of humour glaring at him. Alex looked away, focusing on a stone under his foot as he mulled the answer over in his mind. He didn't know, if he was being honest. It was probably the same reason he hadn't picked up a phone. Or typed an e-mail. Or wrote a letter.

"I don't know." Alex admitted. To his side, Tom sighed,

"You never have been good with this emotional crap have you?" Alex looked up, the dark haired teen gave him a strained smile. "You forget that I know you better than you know yourself, Alex."

Alex nodded, and turned his eyes out to the field that stretched out in front of them. Tom shifted on his seat.

"So where did you and Jack go?" Tom asked, Alex felt his stomach drop and he scrambled to pick up his expression before it was noticed. He forgot that Tom wouldn't know, he had been close to the red head as well, having spent a large portion of his time around Alex's to escape his parents.

Tom's face changed in the momentary pause and when Alex looked over to him, he saw a sadness that he knew was once echoed in his own features, one he had hastened to hide. Tom made no effort to do the same.

"Oh." Tom breathed quietly, this time the silence was long, drawn out and Alex was surprised to find it was uncomfortable. It never used to be, he turned his head back to Tom and the dark haired boy shook his head slowly, "Shit."

Alex swallowed heavily and looked at the pebbles under his feet, toeing one larger one thoughtfully with the tip of his trainer.

"You should have called me." Tom said quietly, Alex shrugged.

"I wouldn't have known what to say."

"Hello. I'm alive, is a good start." Tom stated quietly, Alex looked around with a raised eyebrow, "You disappeared from the face of the Earth after someone took a pot shot at our school Al. What else was I supposed to think."

Alex didn't say anything to that, what could he say, Tom's thinking made sense. It was just the reality was that much worse.

"Do I need to ask what happened? Or is my guess close enough?" Tom asked quietly, Alex looked at him and the dark haired boy fiddled with the chain on the swing with agitated fingers. Alex frowned,

"Probably close enough."

"Thought so." Tom admitted, Alex frowned and took a deep breath.

"How'd you know?"

"I've only seen you look like a kicked puppy once Al," Tom stated. "That was when Ian died. It's not hard to work out."

"Oh."

There was a moments pause and Alex turned his head when he heard the sound of laughter from the toddler over on the baby swings. Tom shifted beside him and sighed.

"Are you still work-"

"No." Alex stated simply. Tom nodded beside him with a thoughtful look,

"That's good." Tom agreed, Alex didn't respond instead he watched as a group of teenagers entered the park through the metal gates on the opposite side of the field, idly kicking a football between them. He could feel Tom shifting uncomfortably beside him, and he wondered if irreparable damage had been inflicted between them.

"Where are you staying now?" Tom asked quietly. Alex swallowed heavily and turned to look at him not bothering with the reassuring smile he would have done if it had been anyone else.

"San Francisco. With Sabina." Alex responded, pushing away the irritation that the thought ignited as he thought about how he would rather be uncomfortable and awkward here than pussyfooted around. Tom tilted his head to one side and rested it against the chains of the swing.

"What's it like?"

"It's different."

"Course it is. I'm not there." Tom stated with a small smirk. Alex smiled half heartedly and Tom sighed, "This sucks."

Alex nodded as he turned his eyes back to the ground. He didn't know exactly what Tom was pin-pointing with the statement, whether he meant Jack's death, the fact he now lived in America, the fact this awkwardness between them had never been there before or maybe one of a million other things. But he did know he whole-heartedly agreed with the statement.

"You're on holiday?" Tom asked, Alex nodded. "You're supposed to have fun on a holiday."

Alex looked up with a frown and Tom pushed himself of his swing. The dark haired boy looked at him expectantly and Alex raised a questioning eyebrow,

"You're not still pissed at me?" Alex asked, Tom shrugged.

"I wasn't in the first place." Tom admitted, "Just annoyed you didn't get in touch."

"I thought the shooting-"

"Nah. The girls dig the scar." Tom cut across quickly. Alex sensed the purposeful change of direction like an oncoming train and nodded slowly as he stood up,

"Besides, Hakuna Matata and all that crap." Tom said simply, a small mischievous smile appeared on his face and Alex tensed. "Although payback can be a bitch."

"Tom-"

"You owe me one, Al." Tom stated. Alex snapped his mouth closed and frowned,

"What do you want?"

"You need to add me to your MSN, make sure you actually have my phone number and send me e-mails when you get home." Tom stated as he ticked off the three requests on his fingers. Alex raised an eyebrow,

"That's three things."

"I'm taking liberties." Tom shrugged with a roguish grin, "It's not often I have something over the elusive Alex Rider."

Alex let out a bark of laughter, surprising himself and feeling as the uncomfortable atmosphere dissipated slightly between them. Tom smiled, this time the expression looked more genuine before he glanced over his shoulder at the group of boys who were playing a somewhat parody of a game that resembled football.

"Now," Tom announced clapping a hand on the blonde's shoulder, "Let's show them how to play _real_ football."

* * *

><p>Alex walked back into the hotel that evening at just gone 9 o'clock. They had spent the day catching up, talking about Brooklands and how things had changed, covering hundreds of topics, Alex's old friends, football, pretty much everything of absolutely no importance. Tom had seemed to pick up when Alex's mood started to dip and had diverted his attention to something else.<p>

It was a small set of gestures, and Alex could honestly say he appreciated it.

Alex knew Tom could have made it a damn sight harder, he could have asked a lot of questions, pushed for a lot of answers or said he understood. He did none of those, and while Alex knew the friendship wasn't as strong as it once had been, it was still there. Alex decided to stick to Tom's substandard blackmail, and had promised to e-mail when he returned to America.

They had parted company at the tube station and Tom had given a cheery smile and wave as he disappeared through the barriers.

It was only as he started back to the hotel, walking a fair bit slower than he would normally that his mind moved back to the situation he had left that morning and their impending departure back to the USA.

As he walked through the lobby, thankful to see a different receptionist on duty, the smile slipped completely off his face and he started the trek back up to the room, taking the stairs rather than the lift just to delay his arrival by a couple of minutes.

The room was quiet when he entered, and he found all three of the Pleasures sat around a small coffee table, leaflets were strewn out across the top. All three of them looked up as he entered, and he noted with unsurprised eyes the relief that showed on both Sabina's and Liz's faces. Edward beckoned him over with a plain faced expression,

"Nice day?" Edward asked. Alex felt bad for speaking to the man in such a brash manner, and he hesitated before walking over to join the group.

"It was good. Thanks." Alex mumbled, there was a long pause and none of the gazes moved from him. Alex shifted uncomfortably on his feet, "About earlier-"

"It's fine." Edward responded quickly. Alex sighed, whether it was from relief or annoyance he didn't care to work out. He headed for his bedroom. He was seriously lacking in sleep and had no intention of sitting around being awkward and fawned over. It would only lead to another confrontation like the mornings one.

"Alex?" Edward called as the blonde teen reached his door, he turned and looked at the head of the household with a curious look. Edward smiled slightly, "We want to discuss something with you. Before you go to bed."

Alex sighed, prepared for the "we're here for you, if you ever need us" speech he had heard numerous times and he walked over, taking a seat beside Sabina on the sofa. A leaflet was pushed in front of him and he stared at it before looking up at the owner of the hand.

That looked far too familiar for his liking.

"Is that-" he asked plainly, Sabina grinned.

"Cheyne Walk?" She offered, Alex stared at her before looking back at the familiar looking house. The colour of the door was different as was the number, but other than that it was near enough identical.

"We have to look at it, and put in place a few business arrangements, but we're moving back." Edward explained. Alex nodded tensely, his eyes still locked on the white brick building in front of him. All thoughts of the good day he had had with Tom went out of the window and when he looked up he noticed the adults sharing a look that was bordering on excited enthusiasm.

He knew they were trying to break the news to him gently as if attempting to soothe away any worries he may have.

He knew when Sabina looked at him with a concerned face that she was worried about the decision they had made without his input.

He gave them all a reassuring smile.

"That's great." He said in an enthusiastic tone, one that sounded so genuine he _almost _fooled himself. Edward started to talk about the process they were going to take and Alex felt Sabina watching him with careful eyes as he listened, nodding and agreeing in all the right places until he was able to dismiss himself for the night.

He looked at the picture staring up at him from the real estate leaflet, with all its neutral decoration and its mocking interpretation of a perfect "family" townhouse before he walked to his bedroom door with carefully measured steps. He could feel Sabina's eyes on his back and ignored them as he pushed the door open, easing it closed behind him he leant against it before sliding to the floor with a tired sigh.

He knew they had looked into _that _particular area to try to make the transition easier for him, their thinking that some semblance of similarity to the "happy" parts of his past would help.

That decision, on the place they would call home that he would never be able to, was a testament to how little they knew and understood.

It was also a sign of just how well he had played his part as the dysfunctional "guest" in their routine.

Beggars couldn't be choosers, after all.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi all, **

**Okay so I'm a day late, but this was the one shot that needed to be written out. I'd been putting it off, because it was damn hard. We have a couple of OC's in this, but again they may not necessarily be in all my fic's going forwards. **

**The way it's written is a bit iffy, but there are two separate scene's going on, one is in regular font, the other in italic. Sorry if this confuses anyone, but it was the only way I could think of making it work without having two separate chapters, **

**Anyway, hope you enjoy and please remember, this is meant to be vague...**

**Shush x**

**Disclaimer: **I still own nothing. Sad but true.

**Warnings: **A little violence, but *Shock horror* no language in this one!

* * *

><p>"<em>The best weapon of a dictatorship is secrecy, but the best weapon of democracy should be openness."<em>

**Neils Bohr**

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><p>"They're arriving."<p>

Ice blue eyes turned towards the speaker who was seated in front of multiple security monitors in one corner of the room. With one swift motion he pushed himself into a standing position from the large leather desk chair and crossed the room in four strides, coming to stand behind the man and watching the monitors with eager eyes.

* * *

><p>"<em>Ah David," Adair greeted as another of the board entered the room, the grey haired politician smiled and shook the offered hand before turning to look at the other people already situated in the room and talking amongst themselves in quiet whispers. The room they were situated in was, of course, underground for security purposes and the guards outside the door were armed with the country's finest weapons.<em>

"_When are we expecting Henley?" one of the seated men asked. Adair turned to him, _

"_In an hour, I believe we need to discuss a separate situation before he arrives."_

* * *

><p>"Doctor Three and Goan Niche."<p>

He turned his head back to the monitor as the Rolls Royce pulled up to the pavement outside of the high end bar on the Grecian south coast. The bright sunlight glared against the paintwork, temporarily whiting out the camera as one of the back doors was pulled open. Two men climbed out of the back, one older with greying hair, sitting away from the natural hairline due to age and the other, younger, no more than 24 but both were bedecked in expensive, and no doubt, designer suits.

This was one of the pairs his mentor had been eager to arrive, Three would prove pivotal in the upcoming meeting of minds, but the actions of change would rely on his young student. He watched with assessing eyes as the pair made their way to the door. He recalled all the information he had researched before the invites had been dispatched.

Three was old school Scorpia, a master in torture and currently a major hand in operations of the Yakuza in his homeland. It had been surprising to discover he had taken on a young Swede as a protégé, but by no means unwelcome. The young man moved with a confident deadly grace, and even in the grainy image of the monitors you could see the dangerous edge to his eyes that seemed even stronger than his mentors.

* * *

><p>"<em>We have a contact, who I have asked to attend today." Adair explained as the door to the meeting room was pulled open. Another man, his hair grey, his suit ironed within an inch of its life and a tie so cheap it reminded Adair of a school boy, entered the room. Adair had never been a fan of John Crawley, and the feeling was mutual, but they both knew that heads were going to roll in the near future. Especially if they were being seen to be doing nothing in times of adversity. <em>

_It had been an awkward conversation, which had led to an uneasy pact between them. But all investigations into SO had be bought to attention of the board, even those of internal or trusted candidates._

"_Mr Crawley." Adair greeted as he stood and gestured to the spare seat beside him. He shook the man's hand and sat down; waiting patiently as Crawley followed and placed the file he was carrying on the large round table in front of them._

* * *

><p>"This is the last?"<p>

"Yes. Arun Maurandi."

"The other?" he asked as he eyed the man that was walking beside the rather plump individual along the pavement. The long pause confirmed what he already knew, there wasn't a response. The silence was as bad as incorrect information, and it would appear the man knew, that as his fingers twitched nervously against the mouse

"H-he did not send notification of a travel partner."

He stayed silent, and his face gave nothing away as his eyes watched the pair walk into the building. He made a mental note to discover who the second man was as a point of importance, and he knew aside from the imbecile sat in the room with him now, anyone else would have gotten the information in a heartbeat.

Talking of heartbeat...

He pulled his Grasch from its holster and one shot was fired into the silence. He watched with impassive eyes as the man slumped over the keyboard he had been working at moments before. There was no time for a warning, the same as he had no time for mistakes and timewasters. He had a meeting to attend.

* * *

><p>"<em>What exactly are you implying, Mr Crawley?" One of older directors asked from the opposite end of the table. Adair clasped his hands on the table and looked to Crawley with an interested gaze, <em>

"_As you can see from the information supplied, I am not implying anything." Crawley explained in his normal dull, lifeless tone, "I am informing you that I have received confirmation that Alan Blunt is conducting a seemingly separate investigation into the cause of the Stella Anta raid of his own accord."_

"_How is he getting access to this?" Adair asked pointedly. Crawley shut the file in front of him, _

"_You do not run Special Operations for almost twenty years and not acquire separate contacts, Adair." Crawley stated, Adair frowned and looked at the man who was acting as an independent advisor to the board against the wishes of his corporation. _

"_The intelligence leak?" It was Ronson that spoke, and pushed the questions in the direction they were all apprehensive about approaching._

"_I can assure you, if Mr Blunt had any intention of taking the Establishment down with him, he could have done so very easily within hours of leaving the bank."_

_There were concerned murmurs from the gathered men and Crawley watched them with an impassive face, Adair waited a second before speaking again. _

"_You believe he would?" Adair asked, he could have sworn he saw the head of HR's lips twitch in a mocking attempt of a smirk. _

"_It wouldn't matter what I believe." Crawley stated, "Rather what you would believe. I have no authority."_

"_We are aware of that." Ronson declared loudly, "We are asking you if Blunt is safe."_

_There was a long pause, and Adair felt the tension in the room. The chance of one man, with all the knowledge that Blunt held contemplating speaking out in the current climate, would only lead to one order being issued. But if the affirmation was given in the opposite direction, it could cast the situation into a new light._

"_Alan Blunt was one of the most feared features of MI6 for many years." Crawley stated dully, "It was maintained that way for a purpose."_

"_And that was?" Ronson prompted, this time the twitch of the lips was definitely there, _

"_Fear is the foundation of safety."_

* * *

><p>The hallway was expensively be-decked, the bright red and gold gilding that ran the coving glittered under the lights of the chandelier and he walked into an office with one curt knock on the door. The occupant of the room, who was sat behind a desk with a solitary piece of paper in front of him, looked up without an element of surprise on his face.<p>

"Davies." He greeted calmly.

Davies nodded in reply and gestured to the door,

"They're here."

"Any problems?"

"There is an unknown," Davies admitted as he walked to the desk, he pulled open the man's top drawer and picked up one solitary bullet easing it into place in his weapon with gentle fingers. His mentor didn't look surprised by the act; instead he turned to the computer on the desk,

"His associate?"

"Maurandi." Davies stated impassively as he picked up the man's glasses cloth and cleaned a smudge of blood from the muzzle of his weapon. There was silence apart from the clicking of keys on the keyboard and Davies moved around the desk beside his mentor when indicated. His eyes caught on the image of the blonde man he had observed entering the building and swept down to the profiling below the image.

"Your thoughts, Davies?"

Davies blue eyes read through the known employment history, it was long, a good ten years worth, but there were none of the gaps he would have expected to see in a "normal" operative's history.

"Too comprehensive," Davies stated as he placed his gun back into the holster. "We didn't recognise him by sight, and yet it appears he has worked with some of the biggest organisations."

"Then I trust you can draw appropriate lines of action."

"Yes Triglav."

"Preferably without harming our plight." Triglav stated with serious grey eyes, Davies nodded, "Remember your teachings, Davies. Manipulation is an art form."

Triglav picked up his own weapon, tucking it into the holster under his jacket before the pair walked to the door, and down to the meeting room on the ground floor.

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><p>"<em>Presenting Prime Minister Henley."<em>

_Adair looked up as the announcement was made. Crawley had been dismissed twenty minutes prior, and in the time between then and now there had been more debate in the room than in the last 9 months worth of meetings put together. _

_The arguments had ranged from wanting to seek out Blunt's contact, through despondency about the lack of thought on the matter at the man's dismissal, until coming to rest on an unsteady query of whether or not the man had managed to draw any conclusions that SO hadn't so far. They were finally grasping at straws setting Crawley off with the job of discovering within the time of the meeting if this was the case, so they could make a decision for further action. _

_Adair didn't envy Henley as he walked in, the tension within the cramped and dank room was strife, and more than one of the gathered officials looked on edge at the man's presence. Crawley's information had added an extra option to the limited ones they had laid out in front of them, and the minutes that had followed had split decisions within the room in an instant. _

_Many immediately declared a negative response, while other warily voiced their agreement to the proposition that Adair himself had pushed forwards. In the end it was a divided compromise and Adair couldn't help but wonder why they never seemed to reach a conclusive action whenever the names Blunt and Rider where mentioned._

"_Good Morning, gentlemen." Henley greeted with the suave smile that Adair had seen used for many years by many different faces. It was a shame really the expression would do him no favours here. _

"_I approach you today with a proposition regarding the hierarchal standings of Special Operations." Henley stated with a confidant face. Adair turned his eyes away and looked to the others who didn't look surprised. They had, of course, already come to the conclusion that was what Henley wanted to discuss, and they had, of course, already made a decision. _

_Henley didn't know that and out of good grace they allowed him to voice his plight._

* * *

><p>Davies walked past the guard that was stood outside of the meeting room, passing a critical eye over him. They weren't checked for weapons, there was no point, and every being inside that meeting room would be armed with more than one weapon. If they had tried to stop that, then the seeping of distrust would have already been working in their guests minds.<p>

Davies moved to the computer that was on the receptionists desk and typed a few keys, scrambling any electronic and audio devices that would be within the room. They had worked for a long time under the cover of secrecy; Triglav himself had never revealed his name to any of his co-workers, instead choosing to work under an alias. Davies had been surprised to discover the organisation which had no specific name working from the back streets of Russia. It was his first, and would be his final, employer within the underground. That much had been made clear on his integration, and for an organisation that worked under a thick veil of compliant silence, it was only natural for nobody to be able to speak of them after their employment.

Not that it mattered; Davies had no intention of taking his expertise elsewhere. The group was well known within criminals, but rarely spoken of. They had acquired many names, the most prominent of which had been applied over the last 18 months was Libra. Davies could only think it fitted the rulings well, they weren't a band of thugs taking everything for gain, nor where they assassins and spies.

They were more a balanced force, a small mixed group; multi-skilled across all areas, but Triglav was undoubtedly the mastermind. He was a strategist, a manipulator of minds, and Davies could only begrudgingly admit that the confidence the man walked, talked and presented himself with, was perfectly justified.

99% of the time the man got exactly what he wanted from any given situation. For the 1% that he didn't, Davies dealt with in ways that were a little more "persuasive" under the watchful eye of his mentor.

For the last 18 months though, they had sat dormant, watching, analysing and gathering information as the choices of estranged allies and enemy intelligence agencies shaped the world into a maelstrom of activity that Libra could take advantage of.

When the announcement of the attack on the Stella Anta cruise ship was announced, Davies didn't have to look too hard to realise that Alan Blunt had been the intended target. Nor did he have to work too hard to discover that the action had been unsuccessful. One simple trip to a grieving family's funeral had proved that.

It was all Triglav had been waiting for, and now they would make their move. Davies couldn't help the tensing of his muscles as he entered the room; there were no dead certainties here.

* * *

><p><em>Henley left the room, leaving the board to debate his points in privacy. Adair looked to the group, <em>

"_Responses, Gentlemen." He stated calmly, suddenly there was uproar and Adair looked around at each of the 8 men, _

"We need to resolve this!"

"To put a public official in as point person for Special Operations is idiotic."

"He doesn't understand the workings of the business enough to make that call!"

_Adair held one hand up to call for silence and eventually all the men stilled into silence. Adair clasped his hands together and glanced down at the proposition sheet that they had all been provided with. _

"_I am not experienced with the inner workings of Special Operations to make any set decision." Adair acquiesced, "However I do agree that Henley's proposition is a ridiculous notion that would work to his advantage rather than ours."_

"_I think we all agree that Henley is attempting to rein more control over our actions." Ronson supplied heatedly, "The question is do we let him."_

_The room was silent for a second until a balding man, sat at the head of the table leant forwards with a serious look. Adair turned to look at him, he held the utmost respect for the man, he had been a field experienced soldier for almost 45 years, before moving into positions of power in his work with the military and, alongside Alan Blunt, and he had probably one of the most logical minds Adair had ever experienced. _

_In short, when Field Marshal Jenkins spoke, you listened._

"_I believe gentlemen," Jenkins spoke softly, as if approaching a scared animal, "That it is time for serious action. We all know that military action should be separated from public ruling, and Prime Minister Henley has approached us twice in decisions that should have no place with him."_

_There was silence from the others and Adair felt the atmosphere take on a tenser edge, Jenkins however appeared un-phased but took in the questioning looks he was receiving from everyone around him with a determined edge. _

"_Henley is correct. It is time for a hierarchal movement," Jenkins stated, there were murmurs of incredulity from around the table and Adair frowned to himself. _

"_You aren't talking within Special Operations." Adair commented, Field Marshal Jenkins lips curled at the edges, _

"_No." He agreed, "Henley would never agree to appoint an advisor to the head of special operations. It would effectively be giving control back to the military in an "unstable force" as he called it."_

"_But we agreed there would be no power attached to the role of the advisor." Ronson protested quietly, Adair looked to Jenkins who had a knowing look on his face. _

"_I can assure you, that nobody would take on that particular role without conditions and a little leniency."_

"_This is the result of that leniency." Ronson protested, "This whole debacle and the mess we are now having to pick up is because we were too damn lenient with the ruling before. We gave Blunt too much freedom."_

_There was silence for a moment as the words were put through mental musings and Jenkins nodded thoughtfully, _

"_Possibly," Jenkins commented calmly, "Or is it because of the interference of a man who has no idea of how to handle the situation, that we have been left with unexpected turmoil."_

_None of them had an answer for that._

* * *

><p>"Good evening." Triglav greeted as he took a seat at the head of the table. Davies stood to his side, the same as all the other lower standing individuals attending. He hadn't been surprised to see some of the most vicious men on the listing for attendance, and was even less surprised to see some very familiar faces attending with them. It would have been moronic to have arrived to a meeting of criminals with no protection aside from weapons.<p>

Davies nodded to one man he recognised, Alexandros Constantine, one of Scorpia's more advanced agents who had remained faithful to one of the very few remaining directors. The Australian, as he was known, looked between the pair with a calculating eye. Davies could understand why, any alliance to a separate agency could mean death in an instant if it was thought to go against cause. Triglav apparently noticed,

"No need to worry," Triglav stated as he looked at the Australian, "Constantine is perfectly aligned to your cause. He refused our offer without hesitation when it was proposed."

The Australian narrowed his eyes but said nothing as he nodded a curt acceptance of the fact. Davies withheld his smirk, the fact he had made the headway in Scorpia's downfall, rounding up as many agents as possible in the wake of their downfall was no secret within the men of this room. He wondered how many of them realised their finest were tempted by the offer.

"Let's get down to this shall we." A heavily accented voice spoke, Davies looked over to see Copani with a stern look on his face. The man's wanderings through Europe, and his work of distributing children to the more "sexually deviant" men of the world had bid him well, looking at the expensive Armani suit he was wearing.

"Of course, as you are aware, we are facing something of a crossroads." Triglav said carefully, Davies internally smirked, he'd heard this a thousand times before, but the man's way of capturing and holding attention never faltered, "As you are all no doubt aware, the CIA recently managed to pull up a group that were operating out of Texas."

"The NDL," Doctor Three commented, "I cannot see how this is any concern of ours."

"I can however." Triglav countered, Doctor Three looked murderous for a second before gesturing for the man to continue, "It would appear the authorities were in fact investigating a separate organisation, and because of conflicting terms and territories the attention was drawn to NDL activities."

Maurandi leant forwards, "How did you come across this?"

"I have contacts." Triglav commented, "Many of which are within positions of authority. While I do not have exhaustive information, I have enough to be able to hypothesise about events concerning the CIA, along with a few other agencies."

Triglav stood and the lights around him dimmed. Behind him a light lit up the wall and an official looking report appeared in its wake.

"This is the latest from MI6, regarding the Stella Anta," he reported looking directly at Maurandi, "As you can see, they have no idea who it is who is responsible, and nor can they pinpoint exactly where the threat originated from."

"It was not us." Maurandi commented, Triglav nodded his agreement, "But you know who."

"I do. And the company themselves are the first in a list that I am hoping to compile." Triglav commented, the image disappearing from the wall and the lights returning to the room once again, "As you have no doubt heard, there are no leads as to who attacked the liner, nor is there any suspicions beyond the fact it was aimed at Blunt."

The room was silent and the Australian leant forwards with an interested look on his face, "You arranged the cover up."

"Indeed. As you are all no doubt aware, I operate in secrecy, my presence is, as yet, unknown to most intelligence agencies and it shall remain that way for as long as possible." Triglav explained, "I make my living and that of my men by conducting commission based work out to other organisations, who do not wish to be open to the risk of using their own operatives."

"And yet you would risk your own." Maurandi observed,

"My men are the best, Maurandi." Triglav replied offhandedly, "Their names are known but you would never recognise them on two separate occasions, and yet each of your accompaniments here today, I recognise and am able to recall at least some of their history."

Davies watched with a smug look as Maurandi shifted uneasily in his chair before his eyes moved to his travel partner. The man was apparently not as interested as every mind in the room, fiddling with his watch with a frown on his face. Davies looked at it, recognising it as a British make, even though the man appeared to be of Middle Eastern assent. He knew from records that Maurandi did no business on the British Isles, the terrorist market in other areas was more profitable making the small island a dead market to him. But that hadn't stopped him receiving attention following recent activities that were similar to ones of past.

"We are of course in a moment of turmoil where each of our organisations is striving for some form of dominance over the territories." Triglav continued, ignoring the look Maurandi gave him, "I have a proposition for you; you were all invited here as being at the tops of each of your fields. Yet you all have separate aims and territories for them. Occasionally, like with the NDL they can inter-lap and often lead to unwanted supervision from authorities."

"You want to form an organisation?" Copani offered. Triglav shook his head as he walked to the head of the table once again.

"Not in the slightest." He stated, "I have learned from Scorpia's mistakes and have no intention of making the same. What I am offering is an alliance, more a way to allow our activities to run as we see fit, without endangering each other in the process. Nothing from an operational point of view will change,"

"You are discussing a democracy." Doctor Three stated, "Democracy requires a leader, a ruler if you will, I have no intention of allowing myself up to another individual."

"I am discussing a democratic alliance." Triglav agreed, "But while you discuss the proposition of a leader, I have no intention of making myself as such. There will be no money or power exchanging hands because of this."

"It would be foolish to believe that you would work for nothing." Three commented.

"Obviously, but the cost of services would be extremely low, in fact there would be no literal cost. I require no money. I have enough from my own work." Triglav explained, "I no longer need financial gain, now I simply wish to peruse my work for pleasure and to do so, some of the time I need operatives that are specific to one field."

"You will work for us, allow us use of your agents, and hide our activities from officials for the usage of our own operatives." The Australian surmised,

"Basically, that is correct."

There were bemused expressions passed around the table, and Davies watched the man that was accompanying Maurandi with a practiced eye. The man was stood tensely, watching proceedings with an impassive face and occasionally touching his wrist that the watch he had noticed resided on earlier. Davies realised he wasn't the only one with concerns, and took a step forwards.

"Mr Maurandi." He stated, Triglav turned to look at him and the plump man gave him an annoyed look, "I was wondering if I could borrow your companion."

The man in question tensed and Maurandi looked around at him,

"For what purpose."

"I can assure you Maurandi; Davies would not make such a request without grounds." Triglav stated quickly, it was all it took for a pistol to be drawn from the shifty man's hip, but Davies was quicker and a shot rang through the air.

There was a flurry of movement, and Davies stilled when metal touched his temple, looking out of the corner of his eye to see Alexandros stood steadily holding his own pistol; Niche was crouched by the body of the fallen man. It hadn't been a shot to kill, purely to incapacitate in the most painful way possible and when Niche stood it was with the watch in hand and an appraising nod to Davies. The gun wasn't removed, but Niche turned the watch over in his hands with a scowl, before inching the back cover off.

"Bugged." He stated in a strongly accented tone. Alexandros removed the gun from his head and Maurandi turned pale as he looked down at the man on the floor, the blood was steadily pooling around the man's body.

"It looks like I have I already have a client in you, Maurandi." Triglav stated, the man looked down at the spy and nodded slowly. Triglav turned to the rest of the room,

"This, although unexpected," he said slowly, "Is a prime example of why we require this alliance. My men are the best at keeping things concealed by whatever means."

The twelve men in the room looked between each other with plain faced expressions as if silently questioning an alliance among enemies was feasible, and as they stood and left the room, Davies received two nods of compliment from Alexandros and Niche as they exited the room with their mentors.

Maurandi left alone, passing a silent look of thanks as he passed. Triglav turned to look at Davies with an appraising look once the room had cleared.

"Well done." He complimented. Davies nodded his acceptance, "Your little display, I have no doubt worked in our favour."

"You believe they will accept?"

"Nothing is certain Petrov," Triglav stated quietly, he turned and looked at the body on the floor, "You planted the agent?"

Davies nodded his acquisition,

"You learn well. But don't play with your food, as Scorpia proved, it may bite back." Triglav advised before he left the room with one final look at the body. Davies took two swift steps across the room as he pulled the pistol from his holster and fired one shot.

It would be reported in three days that Agent Colson, once MI6 agent, picked up by a contact in Albania and referred to Maurandi as MI6 "arranged" to happen, worked patriotically before that bullet entered his skull in a "presumed" one on one confrontation.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello all :)**

**I hope everyone is well, and your all enjoying the fabulous snow if you've got any so far. I know I'm hoping it will get a little heavier overnight and I can't get to work tomorrow!**

**Anyways, on with the one shot. Enjoy all!**

**Shush x**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing as per normal.

**Warnings: **Um, I don't think there are any :S Maybe Alex angst?

* * *

><p>"<em>For once you have tasted flight you will walk the earth with your eyes turned skywards, for there you have been and there you will long to return."<em>

_**Leonardo da Vinci**_

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><p>"Alex?"<p>

Alex looked up from the crouch he was in near his wardrobe, Sabina was stood in the doorway of his room with her hair tied back into a messy ponytail, scrappy jeans and an old college t-shirt that hung off her shoulders were rumpled. He guessed she was packing as well.

It had been eight weeks since their trip to England, the days had rolled by quickly, much as they were prone to do when you wished you had a little more time. It had all happened surprisingly quickly, there was no forward chain from the house in Chelsea, and as all four of them were originally British citizens, the paper trail was considerably shorter than it would have been under any other circumstances. It would be their last week of high school next week, and then they would travel the Atlantic, back to the place Alex was both dreading and anticipating.

"Do you want a hand with packing?" Sabina asked as she moved into the room and perched on the edge of his bed. Alex watched her with a plain face, before he shook his head.

"I've only got a little bit left."

"You only started this morning."

"I haven't got a lot of stuff." Alex replied offhandedly, crossing his arms across his front in an act of mocking casualness. Her eyes narrowed at him for a second, and he wondered if she was going to vocalise whatever thought had crossed her mind, before she stood and made for the door. He watched her go, with only a little surprise at her restraint, as she turned in the doorframe with a frown on her face.

"If you don't want my help, you could just say that," Sabina said quietly looking genuinely hurt, Alex wondered what to say in response to that, but before he even had a chance to contemplate whether he _should_ respond or not, she'd already gone and the light click of a door further down the hall signalled her retreat into her own room.

Alex couldn't bring himself to be bothered by her abrupt exit, it was becoming a more common occurrence as the move approached. The atmosphere within the whole house was tense. Edward had spent many hours on the phone, arranging flights and conversing with both estate agents and employers for their return. Liz had kept the common household running, as well as arranging people to replace her in the San Francisco branch of her boutique that was remaining open following their departure and Sabina had spent the majority of her time in her room, sorting through the absolutely ridiculous amount of clothes and _stuff_ she owned.

Although, he truly did wonder if that was all she was doing.

He'd have enough experience of the young woman to know that she was anything if not efficient. It seemed an odd trait for her to have taken so long to simply sort through the things she used every day. It was an even odder trait for her to be the one to make an excuse not to linger downstairs and wile away the hours in the lounge with her parents in front of the TV.

But overall, he really didn't take all that much notice. With everyone busy, it had taken away some of the scrutiny from him.

He still did all the obligatory activities; ate meals with them, walked to school with Sabina, went out with her friends, but nobody seemed too bothered if he didn't seem all that interested.

_That_ particular part suited him just fine.

Alex turned back to the wardrobe and pulled out the final box, labelled miscellaneous, in a script he didn't recognise. Placing it on the desk, he checked that his own bedroom door was closed before ripping the tape from the top, pulling it open he was presented with a colourful myriad of trinkets. Things he hadn't seen in a long time, glared back up at him with all the intensity he'd missed when they had been placed around the Chelsea house he once resided in.

With a frown, he picked up a large leather bound book that he didn't recognise. He'd never packed this box, the same as he never unpacked it once he'd arrived in America. It had been placed, along with the three others that had been shipped over with him, in the bottom of his wardrobe.

Out of sight, out of mind he'd reasoned with himself. It was supposed to be a fresh start, and he'd assured himself that he would go through the contents of the boxes that had followed him around the world once he was settled.

Now it was just a good excuse to shift it from the wardrobe and into the dump pile. Two of the boxes, labelled as "clothes" had made the rubbish pile without being opened. If they were his, they'd be too small, if they were Jack's or maybe even Ian's, he didn't need them.

The third box from the cupboard had been filled with things from his bedroom, books, cd's, posters, everything that had once been within the four deep blue walls of his room in London. It had only taken a quick scan through the contents, and pulling out a couple of CD's that he forgot he owned, before the rest was thrown in the same pile as his clothes.

Alex glanced at the two piles of items, the one that would be thrown away was a lot bigger than the neatly packed boxes he was going to be taking back with him, before he turned back to the final one he had to tackle. He turned the book over in his hand, before flicking open the front cover. He almost threw it straight onto the rubbish pile when he saw the name just inside the front cover.

_Jacqueline Starbright – Uni and beyond._

Alex stared at the cover page, and through it he could feel the indents of paper, a photo album. He knew she had always had a sentimental streak, and was strangely fond of taking pictures but he'd never seen any the results of her "snap happy" demeanour. Well, discounting the few that were placed in frames around her room, Ian had always been a little touchy about photographs being in the main house.

It was strange how all his Uncle's little traits where suddenly making a lot more sense.

He pulled open the first page and looked at the picture of Jack holding a simple carry on, dressed in a bizarre combination of clothes at what was evidently an airport. Alex smiled, she looked so young. He didn't remember seeing her like this, and deduced it must have been before she even travelled to England and had required the funds and a room that caused her to lodge with Ian and himself.

He flicked through the first couple of pages, they were similar pictures to the first, of a Jack he recognised but couldn't really remember. He didn't study them too much, he felt like he was intruding into a part of her life that he had no right to view, and just as he flicked past a final picture of Jack and her parents he was about to close it and put it on the "discard" pile.

That was until he saw a very familiar blonde head of hair in the next picture. The picture must have been taken by someone else, maybe a resident of wherever they were visiting. It definitely wasn't England. The sunlight was too bright, the sand too white, the water too blue and Ian's stance was too casual. The image as a whole wouldn't have been out of place in a family photo album, three faces were smiling, as if laughing at the photographer while stood in beach wear that revealed more skin that he would be willing to now.

Strangely, there were no memories triggered from the picture and it was morbid curiosity that made him stare at the two people who had once been the most poignant in his life. Stranger still was that it didn't _hurt_ to know that they weren't there anymore, he was sure it should have done. Instead it was like he was viewing pictures of someone else, and that wasn't _his_ face grinning up at himself, it wasn't _his_ uncle stood with a hand on his shoulder, it wasn't _his _Jack that had a hand loosely connected with Ian's behind the child's back-

Alex blinked_._

He flicked to the next one, and the next, and the next again, stopping only when he came across a picture of an event that he did actually remember.

"_We should get one of these!" Jack exclaimed as she stopped by a red Ford Galaxy. Alex looked up at Ian with an amused smirk, his uncle seemed to find the proposition just as funny. Jack crossed her arms over her front, _

"_What?" she asked with a pout. Alex smothered a laugh behind his hand, Ian looked down at his nephew, at 5'6" he wasn't short for a 13 year old, but still came up short against Ian._

"_I got this one, Ian." Alex said as he walked over towards Jack. He pulled a serious look over his face, opened the front door and gestured to the driver's panel. _

"_Top of the range, M'am. Everything is perfectly placed and easy to read, with authentic retro l.e.d green glow , all wrapped up with superglue and perfect Taiwan plastic." He knocked against the dash, it made a dull thudding noise and Jack opened her mouth to speak. Alex placed a finger to his lips and pulled open the back door, _

"_Very practical," he gestured again, Ian's smirk widened, "Enough seating for 6 passengers, perfect for all those little brats you're planning on having and the seats are made of perfectly shampoo-able nylon, designed in granny grey to disguise the stains when those "little accidents" happen."_

_Jack was glaring at him now, but she said nothing as Alex moved, and this time opened the boot, "In here, plenty of space to move boxes when you have to sell your house for equity, because you have ploughed all your money into a cheap piece of crap that breaks down all the time."_

_Alex closed the boot, and Ian was grinning behind Jack. Alex crossed his arms and straightened his back with a shrewd look on his face, one that would have fitted perfectly on the most dodgy car dealer in the London area._

"_Now, can I interest you finance?"_

_Ian let out a bark of laughter and Alex grinned, at the red head. She huffed, "Have I ever told you two I hate you?"_

"_Many a times." Ian agreed as he walked over, he patted Alex's shoulder, "Nice acting, Alex."_

"_Right, so seeing as how it's _my_ birthday present," Jack interrupted with a sceptical look, "What exactly do _you two_ have in mind?"_

_Ian immediately pointed to a BMW sat in one corner, Alex looked over with a frown and shook his head, _

"_Too masculine and too much like yours." He reported. Ian looked at him with a raised eyebrow, the challenge had obviously been set in that instant._

_Alex took a moment to look around the showroom, his eye caught on something tucked into the back corner and he lifted himself to his tiptoes to get a better look. He grinned and took off at speed, walking towards it with the confidence of someone who knew exactly what they wanted. Jack and Ian shared a look before following after him, Jack stopped dead when she saw it. Ian nodded, an appraising look on his face as he looked between Jack and the car._

"_Nice choice kiddo." He acknowledged. Jack walked forwards with something akin to reverence on her face and touched the bonnet of the bright red Mini Sports Coupe with a gentle hand. She beamed before pulling both Ian and Alex into a hug. _

"_It's perfect!"_

_Ian gave him a sly thumbs up. Alex smirked and pulled away from Jack, much in the embarrassed teenager way he did at that age, leaving Ian to her crushing embrace for a few more seconds. Ian moved away with a roguish smile, _

"_You deserve it, Jack." He said quietly, before turning to the approaching salesman and walking to the office with the man, leaving Jack admiring the "perfect" car that had been picked out three days before and Alex successfully completing the task Ian had set to get her to agree to the purchase, without telling her they'd already paid the deposit._

Alex closed the photo album with more force than he meant to, the movement casting a dull thud into the air. He shouldn't have been surprised, not really. Now he thought on it, there had to be _something_ that had kept Jack around for nine years. Kept her around through all the times Ian had disappeared in the middle of the night, all the calls from the school because Alex done something stupid, all the times she'd had the chore's around the house because Ian had been involved in some form of "Accident" on a business trip.

He'd thought it was him.

Now the evidence proved contrary, and this time, when he glared at the cover of the photo album held tightly in his white knuckled hand, it did hurt.

Not because they weren't here. The grief he had been expecting to feel from the viewing of the pictures, was hidden behind this most recent revelation.

It hurt, because they'd lied. And like so many of the other revelations of his past, he would never know the truth.

Unlike the others of his past, he couldn't understand _why_ they'd never said anything. But somewhere in the back of his mind, things were connecting together and being interpreted to provide an answer as to why.

Alex put the photo album back into the box, and dumped the whole thing onto the rubbish pile, before flopping onto his bed and closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. He didn't like the conclusions that seemed to be forming in his mind as he led there and stared up at the ceiling, but hindsight was a blessed curse at times. He pushed himself upright and grabbed a pair of tracksuit bottoms from the box he'd already packed, needing to get up, go out, do something to distract himself from the thought train.

Because he knew Jack, knew that her stubborn nature would never accept the "I fell over" excuses that Ian always used to feed him, but the possibility of the other, was just incomprehensible.

_Jack couldn't have known_, Alex firmly insisted as he yanked his bedroom door open and jogged down the stairs. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew she had known, whether or not she'd acknowledged it or even knew the details. But she'd decided not to say a thing, instead, she chose to act oblivious for Alex's sake. That was the part that hurt most of all, because it was a real "Jack" thing to do.

She'd done everything, including lying, something she _hated, _to keep him safe. And when it came down to it, even though he started with the best intentions, he could do absolutely nothing to return the favour.

He wondered if it was even worth trying anymore.

* * *

><p>Alex pulled his jacket around him gently as the night breeze ruffled his hair where he was sat atop the cliff overlooking the Golden Gate bridge. He listened to the sound of the cars as they drifted past, watching as they crossed over the bridge before each light disappeared somewhere on the horizon beyond his eyes reach.<p>

He liked it up here, the sea air ran across his face, the quietness that surrounded the very rarely walked area was exactly what he had been needing when he had first snuck out three weeks ago in the dead of night.

It was the night before they were due to depart, he'd watched all through school time as other students had approached Sabina, with commiserations of her departure and well wishes for her future. He'd stood to one side, listening stoically as the words were passed between them and promises to keep in touch were exchanged.

He wondered how many of them she would be breaking.

When school started to draw to a close, Alex found himself sat in the back of Edward's car, watching as a group of people congregated around her, but completely unwilling to join the fray and bid his own goodbyes. He didn't really know them after all.

Edward had glanced at him in the rear view mirror with a frown, that Alex had raised a sarcastic eyebrow too. Edward had the decency to look a little shamefaced before turning and looking out the the front window, not a word being passed between them. Sabina had climbed into the back of the car with puffy eyes, and said nothing the whole ride home.

Alex had walked up to his room, the minute they pulled into the drive, not giving an excuse or even bothering to spare Liz a second glance as he passed. Since viewing the photo album, it seemed like a final chord had been cut somewhere, and he just couldn't, or maybe wouldn't, bring himself to care what they thought.

That was what had led him here once again, so he could think and just exist, rather than live up to everyone's expectations. He knew now, it was going to be impossible to continue to act as if everything was fine. Much like a vacuumed space, you could only breath for so long without some kind of vent.

And right now, he was suffocating.

Alex picked up a pebble from the side of him and threw it out across the water. It was a small tiny insignificant act, that wouldn't even cause a ripple on the surface of the water but it served its purpose as a little of his frustration was expended through physical energy. He quickly grabbed another and threw it even harder. He was just reaching for the third when he heard the footstep from behind him.

"Keep that up and you'll erode half the cliff." Sabina said quietly as she walked over. Alex dropped the stone to the floor and it rolled towards the edge of the cliff, Alex watched it's progress until it fell over the side. He sat himself back on the ground and pulled his knees up to his chest as Sabina sat down beside him without a word.

It had been becoming more regular over the last week, but still he awaited the hand that would normally touch some part of him, it never came and Sabina made no effort to move.

He found he was thankful for that. The small gesture would probably made him tense enough to not be able to take in the serene setting.

"How'd you find me?" Alex asked, he didn't remove his eyes from the bridge as more cars carried on across it.

"I followed you." Alex turned his head with a raised eyebrow and Sabina smiled slightly, "I knew you'd been going out at night for a while. I heard you tonight and thought I'd take the opportunity to see where you go, before-"

She stopped, and he understood why. The initial excitement over her acceptance to the Drama school had given her rose tinted glasses about how hard it would be to leave everything she knew now. She wasn't coping well, not with the loss of everything that had become familiar, but then Alex thought maybe if he had more to leave in England, he himself wouldn't have done so well either.

"It's beautiful up here." Sabina commented, her voice seeming as loud as a shout in the still night air. She was leading the conversation, Alex let her.

"It's quiet."

It was only two words, but it spoke volumes. Alex suddenly felt a million miles away from everyone. The loneliness that had been insistent since Cairo, sometimes pushed to one side by human interaction, other time by his own mind but always there, hit him full force. He wanted nothing more than to revert back to the carefree youth he had been when he first met her, and tell her the truth as easily as he had the first time. He looked down at his knees, the tan that he had acquired in Egypt had been kept firmly in place by the Californian sun and served as a stark reminder of where his wish for acquaintance had gotten him last time.

It wasn't something he was willing to repeat. The cost was too high.

There was a quiet sigh from beside him and Alex turned his head to look at Sabina. She was dressed casually again, in tracksuit bottoms and a vest top, over which was a baggy jackets that he recognised as one of the ones he'd leant to her when he had visited before. Before things had gone to shit.

"Do you want a drink?" Sabina asked, Alex frowned as she pulled two bottles of Budweiser from her jacket pockets. He didn't even ask where she'd got them from, just took one without a word, opening it with his teeth before turning his eyes back out across the water.

"We should toast." Sabina said quietly, Alex smiled sardonically,

"What too exactly?" he asked sceptically. Sabina looked thoughtful for a second before she shrugged herself,

"Something cheesy. New beginnings or something."

"We're going back to where we came from." Alex stated, Sabina looked at with a frown, "Not exactly a new beginning."

Sabina said nothing but took a drink from her own bottle anyway, Alex wondered if she'd proposed her own silent toast.

"Alright." She admitted quietly after a few minutes silence, "To regretful endings then."

Alex looked at her with a raised eyebrow, "You don't want to leave?"

"I'm not talking about that." Sabina admitted, "It was hard, saying goodbye to Tia and everyone. But I know what I want from life. I'm talking about this."

There was no question about what _this_ was, but even if there was he doubted he would have vocalised any protests. The silence stretched out in front of them, laying as heavily as the summer air around them and Sabina let out a huff of laughter.

"Always the strong silent type." She stated, Alex felt the corners of his lips twitch upwards, "But that response is the reason for it. I knew when you came here things would be different and that it wasn't going to be easy."

Alex didn't look at her, instead he just shut his eyes and let the words wash over him as he had done so many other times with her conversations, but this time he actually took notice of what she was saying. She wasn't finished and Alex had no intention of interrupting her, it felt like something that had been a long time coming.

"The truth was, I hoped we could carry on as it had been before. I've always liked you that much you've always known, right back from Wimbledon. When you told me about _them_, I didn't believe you at first but you came in full force with that man-"

"Gregorovich." Alex muttered, Sabina nodded,

"Yeah him, you became my knight in shining armour that day, you know." Sabina laughed shortly, "I became infatuated with Alex Rider the Teenage spy."

Alex frowned at the title but said nothing, Sabina sighed heavily.

"I could see the damage it was doing to you, but I wanted to try to be the force that would counteract that and pay back the favour, I suppose." She explained, "But I realised not long after you arrived and adjusted here,that it wasn't just that. I liked Alex Rider the _person_, not the spy."

Alex took a swig from his bottle, now would be the perfect time to tell her it was all false. That nothing she had witnessed over the last ten months was the way he _actually_ was, or the way he _should_ be. But something made him hold back the words, leaving them unspoken, meant to a degree they weren't true.

"That's where the problem is." Sabina whispered, Alex turned his head to look at her and he could see she was upset, "I was swept along by the notion that I had got my guy, and you got along well with my friends, I couldn't ask for any more. It was like a film, I was the female lead. You the male. I turned a blind eye to the small details that threatened to ruin that."

Alex said nothing. He wasn't about to accept an apology that was completely ill placed when he was just as much at fault, but neither was he going to stop her telling the truth. It was uncomfortable middle ground.

"The thing is, those small things all added up to one big thing and it's only over the last 6 weeks I've been able to connect the dots." Sabina took a deep breath and Alex turned to look at her, "I realised the way you tense when I touch you, is because you don't know how to react. The way you smile when someone tells a joke that isn't funny, is because it's what's expected. The way you acted like my boyfriend, was because I was playing the role of the girlfriend."

"It wasn't-"

"Like that at the beginning?" Sabina offered, Alex nodded, biting at his bottom lip but said nothing in response. She smiled softly. "I know. And while you caught on quickly that this wasn't working, it took me a bit longer to reach that conclusion."

"I'm sorry." Alex said quietly, and truly he was. She definitely didn't deserve this.

"Don't apologise." Sabina said gently, he felt a hand rest on his leg and he looked at it, before it was removed. "You remember the conversation we had about Tia?"

Alex nodded.

"I want to thank you in a way, for playing the part so well. If nothing else it will make me never accept a lower standard." Sabina explained, "In fact, I should apologise to you."

Alex opened his mouth to protest but a finger was placed gently against his lips. Sabina smiled when his mouth closed behind it.

"I became so obsessed with my little reality, that I forgot something very important." She whispered. Alex frowned for a second, and she leant forwards. Alex tensed, expecting a kiss to the lips that would negate all the words she had just said. Instead he felt the warmth on his forehead. He blinked in surprise after she had pulled away.

"First and foremost Alex, you were and always will be one of my closest friends. Nothing is going to change that."

Sabina had finished her talk, Alex could tell from the finality in her tone. But the words that normally irritated him so, about understanding and wanting to help, went completely unsaid. He was thankful for that, but the tear that escaped one of her eyes tore at his conscience. He thought about reaching out and placing an arm around her shoulders, as he once would have done. He didn't, instead he let her shift back into a sitting position beside him and they both stared out across the water in silence.

It was quiet here, and as a plane passed through his line of sight, with its lights gently blinking against the nothingness of the night sky, Alex found himself not feeling upset over the conversation in the slightest. In fact he felt as the burden was relieved off his shoulders.

It was with a silent concerned sigh he turned his mind to the next lingering issue;

The fact she had followed him.

And he hadn't even noticed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Evening all!**

**Okay, so I completely missed the weekend, and I could come up with a million and one reasons for it. But then again, life gets busy, and family can be highly irritating at times. **

**I'll apologise in advance, for what is merely another "filler" chapter, but I can guarantee the next will be better :D, in fact the next one will be an "Extra" chapter that was inspired by Speechbubble and her curiosity about K-unit. :P**

**I really need to get to writing it out properly actually, so on with the one shot!**

**Happy reading all!**

**Shush x**

**Disclaimer: **Guess what? Still nothing.

**Warning: **Long words lol, damn them! But nothing else, other than major patches of gray :D

* * *

><p>"<em>An action doesn't have to be wrong just because it is not logical. It doesn't have to be right just because it has logic."<em>

_**Lion Feuchtwanger**_

* * *

><p>Alan Blunt stopped outside of the restaurant he had received the invitation to. It would be a lie to say he wasn't expecting a call, not after taking a vested interest in the attack and drawing up a hypothesis of his own. But by the same token, he hadn't expected the call to take so long to arrive. He expected a matter of weeks, not months, but then last week's political riot was probably the prompt for it.<p>

He pushed open the ornate glass plated door, the hostess stood at the pedestal, dressed in formal wear of deep crimson and white spared him a smile as she picked up a menu.

"Good evening, Mr Blunt." She greeted in a formal voice, he picked up on the slight Northern twang in her voice and nodded a greeting in return. "If you'd just follow me, your dinner guest is already seated."

He said nothing as he was led the expansive atrium and into the main dining area. The sound of wine glasses chinking, cutlery scraping and over ambiguous conversation was heavy in the air as people celebrated and enjoyed their overly priced wine and food.

As he followed the hostess towards the private rooms at the back of the high class restaurant, he passed a group of men laughing and talking loudly at the bar about their books and the shares they were going to buy to balance or achieve a position.

Blunt almost cringed at the lack of thought about discussing something like that in the open, but then he supposed they didn't expect there to be anyone malicious under the crystal draped chandeliers.

The ignorance of people really never ceased to astound him.

The large wooden door, which stretched from the high ceiling to the marble floor, was pushed open and Alan entered without a word of thanks to his escort. There was no real need, she would be tipped enough anyway.

Graham Adair was stood by the table, as he walked over and the man offered his hand. Blunt shook it out of formality, he didn't resent the man for what could only be called his "eviction" from MI6. But then, neither did the man try to stop it.

Alan had merely learnt that resentment leads to two things; clouded judgement and a headache. Neither of which were particularly pleasant when you were the head of Special Operations.

"How are you, Alan?" Graham asked as he gestured to a chair. Blunt took a seat and instantly there was a formally dressed waiter filling his glass with dark red wine. He held his hand up when just a splash had been poured and the waiter dutifully ducked away.

"Do we really need the pleasantries, Graham?" Alan asked as he took a slight sniff of the wine. The man opposite him clasped his hands atop the table with a thoughtful look.

"You never were a people person." Graham stated. Alan took a sip of his wine before responding.

"It was never encouraged, nor needed."

"Indeed, but it is one of life's pleasures." Graham said with a sigh.

"It was one of the many I chose to dismiss then." Blunt responded with a dry look, Adair almost flinched at the plain expression on his face and he took a slow sip of his own drink, watching the other carefully.

"I'm sorry about Patricia." Adair said, Blunt swirled his wine glass in his hand thoughtfully.

"Death comes to all of us Graham, it is but a natural turn."

"That's not what-"

"I know what you meant." Alan cut across as he placed his glass down and he leant his elbows on the table before clasping his hands, "What you meant was, "I'm sorry for the way it happened"."

"It was beyond our control." Graham bit out quickly, Blunt slowly unclasped his hands with a thoughtful look at them,

"You believe that as much as I believe world peace is achievable."

It was a cutting remark and Adair locked his eyes on Blunt. "I can understand you are angry about the board's decision-"

"I'm not." Blunt responded calmly, there was nothing to suggest he was lying on his face, it looked almost blank in its honesty. "Henley had to stamp his authority on something big. The board had given me free reign, and in doing so I made unbiased choices on situations to bring them back under our control. If my methods were unorthodox, they never bid any complaints and it was only when a politician became directly involved, that it became less about the results and more about appearance."

"Politics has always been involved." Adair responded curtly,

"To a certain degree yes, I agree. But normally they were internal, I would present to the board, they would present to me. Outside interference was minimal, even in the few and far between COBRA meetings it remained the same."

Adair gestured for Blunt to continue, he did so with a slight nod.

"Henley didn't just try to assert a ruling. He tried to assert a belief based on moral grounds. This, in turn, caused other _military politicians_ to assess their own morals. And, as I expected, they overturned the decision they made 18 years ago."

"You knew?" Adair questioned,

"I knew there would come a time, at some point in my career that a politician would directly affect my methods of work, yes."

There was a pause as Adair carefully thought over his next words and as the door opened and a waiter walked in he took the time to ponder over the conversation so far. He had expected Blunt to be somewhat stoic, or dare he believe it annoyed, over the decision. He waited until the plates had been laid out with the beef wellington and the waiter had left before speaking again.

"If you knew that was the case, why did you choose a course of that was bound to cause controversy?" Adair questioned as he cut into the pastry on his plate. He watched as Blunt removed the pastry and pushed it to one side before slicing a small piece of beef and spearing it on his fork.

"It was the best choice at the time. Ward was a lot more passive in his approach, he had been in the position for a lot longer than Henley and therefore understood better." Blunt explained, "The problem with Henley is he believes in democracy. To obtain a democracy you require a society that is honourable, generous, tolerant and respectable. They are the four things espionage most definitely are not."

"Your society simply didn't agree with his?" Adair asked, Blunt nodded once before chewing the piece of meat in his mouth pensively.

"It never would, the military relies on a certain leniency with the rules to be able to function, you impose too many, it suffocates. Too few and it turns into a common band of assassins. The truth to the system is nothing more than organised murder and corruption. Something no member of the public or politics could wish to understand."

"I beg to differ." Adair said stoically, "The world of politics is also one of corruption. I don't believe for a minute Alan, that you are taken in by the falsities of the spoken word."

Blunt finished chewing the beef before he spoke again, a slight wry look to his eyes as he did so. "Indeed, I don't. But I like to think of myself as a pragmatic realist, rather than an pseudo-idealist."

Adair looked surprised and Blunt felt a small sense of achievement, this wasn't an uncommon in their meetings. Graham was, first and foremost, a publican. He would defend what he believed, his work. It was almost pleasurable to crush that.

"It is a dangerous path to walk, when you are concerned about the image you present to the world, Adair. Many ambiguous decisions have been made on such a footing, Hitler being one to name among the many that mark our past." Blunt explained calmly, his words were restrained, placid and he didn't miss the slight twitch in Adair's brow as he spoke. "The role Intelligence plays is to counter that, by any means and more often than not the best defence is a counter offence."

"Don't preach to me Blunt." Adair warned the grey man simply nodded and speared another piece of beef on his fork. "What occurred was a choice deprived of moralistic thinking."

"And yet you ceased to stop it, as did everyone else who was aware of the topic." Blunt reminded. Adair's face set itself into a grim line and Blunt knew he had the upper hand. "Am I to believe, that you would hide behind the excuse of cynical realism, if Henley tried to pass an order not to take down an army of child soldiers who were prepared to rip down a city in an act of terrorism?"

Adair didn't answer, Blunt pushed his potatoes to one side. He knew he had won this particular battle.

Adair silently took a sip of his wine, mulling over the thought, he knew the course of action that would be taken. It would be a majority vote at a meeting of Cobra where any thoughts of morals or beliefs would be pushed out in an instant. Blunt had just highlighted that fact without an ounce of emotion, pledging a case that was both neutral and realistic.

He'd expected no different, and neither had the board at the last meeting when Henley had been present. Adair wasn't a military man, he never claimed to be such, but neither was he ignorant of the ways things worked. He had been working in the world of false promises and unrealistic ideals to know the truth when he was confronted with it and to have it addressed so bluntly, put to rest any of the concerns he held against the man's actions.

The plain truth was that Blunt simply saw things in a way that was different, and to distinguish a barrier was both foolhardy and unwise.

Henley had already made that mistake.

Adair watched with careful eyes as Alan Blunt placed his cutlery down on his plate, neatly placed together, only the meat was missing, the potatoes, vegetables and pastry were untouched as Blunt once again leant his elbows on the table and interlocked his fingers together thoughtfully.

"I have a feeling you didn't invite me here to simply debate politics and to enquire over my dead wife Graham." Blunt said simply, Adair wondered if the man had any form of emotion at all. Before reminding himself that was what made him effective. "Why don't you just tell me what you're wanting,"

It wasn't spoken as a question and Graham had no intention of taking it as one.

"We've had a board meeting. Certain _issues _have come to light and there is something we would like to propose." Adair explained, placing his own cutlery down. His food didn't seem all that appealing anymore, and he pushed the plate aside as he tried to gauge a reaction from the man in front of him.

Blunt merely picked up his wine glass, that only had a dash of the classic red left in the bottom, with the closest thing to an amused expression on his face that Adair had ever seen.

"It is strange, Graham," Blunt mused as he took a thoughtful sip of wine, "How things coincide with each other."

Adair felt his face set into a grim line and Blunt's lips tilted at the corners in a definite smirk,

"I wonder if these "_issues_" the board were discussing," Blunt continued in his bored tone, "Had anything to do with Henley's rather deprived choice of company that the media have been highlighting recently."

Adair took a swig of his wine, merely as something to do, and to try to escape feeling like he was being examined like a bug under a microscope by the platonic man in front of him. Blunt however, merely looked amused by the small act and gestured with one hand,

"So," Blunt prompted, "This proposition?"

* * *

><p>Alan Blunt sat down on sofa in the modest two bedroom house he owned in Hemel Hempsted. It had been an intriguing lunch, hearing the process that had taken place in its near entirety since his departure.<p>

He hadn't been surprised to find out about the disorganisation in the first months, nor of Jones partial sentimentality. She had always been too soft, too generous.

Nor had he been surprised to find out about Henley's approach and the response that was received. It was a foolish act, but he bid it no attention. The board seemed to be dealing with it.

And he was especially unsurprised to find out that somewhere, somehow, information was being leaked from both the archived and present enquiries. He had expected as much.

No, he was indeed a very hard man to surprise, he always had an answer or a view. Even when Adair had spoken those four whispered words, he had known the practical response.

Blunt gathered up the papers that he had laid out in front of him, arranging them into a neat pile with a cover sheet present on the top. It would be couriered by a private firm that evening, over to Adair's office, only to be scoured over by minds that didn't work the way his did. They would draw unfruitful conclusions until they reached the formal report he himself had composed that was tucked neatly at the back, and while it didn't cross all the T's and dot all the I's, from what he had gathered from Adair it was more than they had to go on from intelligence.

It was nothing more than a bargaining chip, and throughout the meeting he had remained impassive, he had conditions and terms that he wanted adhered too. It wouldn't have done to show his hand to early and miss out on an exclusive opportunity, much like poker.

It was all a power struggle.

But there was no escaping the knowledge, that once you were in, you _were in so _deep that if you tried to escape, you would be drawn back.

You were drawn back, either by your own hand, mind and will or you would be dragged back into the recesses of hell by claws so sharp, they would kill you before you arrived.

Sometimes, Blunt mused, it was better to look at it logically and accept it as fact.


	13. Chapter 13

**Hi all, **

**Let me say a HUGE sorry this has taken a ridiculously long amount of time to get out. Unfortunate health issues and real life tended to get in the way, but that's all over and done with now! I am back, and writing, and this piece IS completed - apart from a few minor changes to upcoming chapters - but the follow up story is still in a work in progress. **

**So please to anyone who has followed or favourite this, rest assured, this WILL be finished but updates may not be regular as things settle back down again. **

**Anyway, on with the chapter that should have been up months ago. Let me know what you think!**

**Shush x**

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing, even after extended efforts of bribery.

**Warnings: **A bit of language, not a lot else I don't think.

* * *

><p>"<em>It is important to our friends to believe that we are unreservedly frank with them, <em>

_and important to friendship that we are not."_

_Mignon McLaughlin_

* * *

><p>Ben gently tapped the lighter in his hand against the wooden top of the table in the dingy bar he was sat. The dim lighting in the underground bar cast shadows in strange patterns up the walls and he couldn't help but think the whole setting was clichéd, from the back alley in Paris setting, right through to the drunk slumped over the bar that he'd noticed when he'd first entered. Even his contact, a man who went by the name of Pierre (a name Ben had no doubt was fake) seemed to slot into the scene like the missing jigsaw piece when he <em>finally<em> arrived almost an hour later.

Ben firmly ignored the beady black eyes that studied him as Pierre moved to the booth he was sat in, taking note of the slight bulge to the man's right hip as he sat down in the opposite seat. Pierre's eyes moved to the lighter in Ben's hand before drifting up to his face with a bemused expression.

"I apologise for my tardiness." Pierre stated in the local language, his heavy accent and tone made the statement sound patronising rather than sorry. Ben said nothing as Pierre's eyes drifted to the lighter again and the waiter approached the table with a tray and two glasses of liquor, he looked at both men before placing them down on the grimy surface.

Ben had ensured to be sat in the bar at the right time. As he had learnt just a couple of weeks prior, and the large bruising over his right shoulder blade that ached every time he moved proved, tardiness represented one of two things; confidence or reservation. Neither were desirable traits to hold in the underground world of the selfish and immoral, one being too strong, the other too weak.

Aim for the middle. Never under-estimated, never over-estimated. Neutral.

"Tell me again, Girard." Pierre said quietly, his chubby fingers wrapping around his glass as his opposite hand brushed his long straggly hair back away from his face, "What is it you were looking for."

"A name." Ben replied smoothly in softly accented French, the rhythm he was tapping on the table didn't change and the contacts eyes moved back down to it with a curious gaze, before his eyes lifted onto Ben's face scrutinising him. Ben kept his face blank as the man opposite lifted his glass,

"I can give you many of those. Some real, some fake." The man replied dryly, before lifting the glass and taking a swig from his glass. Ben watched the man swallow the liquid before he responded with a wry smile,

"You could." Ben agreed, twisting the lighter into his palm and stopping the tapping that had formed some kind of background beat to their conversation, "Of course, I trust your answer will be as honest as that drink."

Pierre stopped with the glass to his lips as he was about to take another drink and looked down at the surface of the liquid with suspicious eyes. He pulled the glass away from his lips, before forming a dirty toothed smile.

"Very good." Pierre complimented as he placed the drink down onto the table with a lingering glance at it. "Much better than your predecessor."

Ben started tapping the lighter again with a thoughtful look, his mind however was moving quickly now that they had finally gotten to the information he was looking for. He looked back up at the mine with a curious eye, "My predecessor?"

"All information is negotiable," Pierre explained as he ran a grubby fingertip around the rim of the glass with a longing look at the whiskey within. Ben looked to the waiter, and ordered a bottle of whiskey, still sealed, to be brought to the table. Pierre laughed, "It is worth more than a drink, young Judas,"

Ben narrowed his eyes at the man, before placing the lighter flat against the table with a steady hand and reached to his back pocket, his fingers brushing the cool muzzle of his pistol that was secured at the hip. Withdrawing his wallet, he thumbed through the notes, not missing the hungry look on Pierre's face as he withdrew a 100 Euro note and placed it on the table. Pierre eyed it, picking it up as the barman returned with a bottle and two fresh glasses.

Ben gestured to the bottle and Pierre poured himself a healthy measure, picking the glass up with one hand and swirling the fluid within with a thoughtful look. "He was British, called himself Welsh, very sure of himself."

"When?" Ben asked bluntly. Pierre took a slow sip of his drink and leant back in his seat.

"About three years ago, now."

Ben picked up the lighter and started tapping it against the table again, this time rather than being a distraction though, it was more for him to process what the man had said. Three years was a lot longer than MI6 were aware of, he'd only been informed of the prior 10 months.

"What information?" Ben questioned, Pierre was watching the lighter again as he sipped at his drink and the man looked up quickly when Ben spoke.

"Didn't say, he just wanted the name of someone who would pay well." Pierre replied hesitantly, Ben watched as the man took a quick sip of his drink immediately after speaking. The door to the bar opened, letting in a stream of late afternoon light, and Pierre's eyes flickered to the entrants. In his peripheral vision two figures entered the room and made their way to the bar. Ben concentrated on the man in front of him as Pierre eyed the newcomers warily, one finger twitching against the glass and licking his lips. It was enough of a confirmation in Ben's mind that the man was nervous or lying. Maybe both.

"What did you tell him?" Ben asked after the man had focussed back on the conversation. Pierre looked hesitant in answering and glanced back over to the bar, taking another drink from his glass before looking back at him with those black eyes. Ben kept his expression blank as they crawled over his face, assessing him. The silence between them was broken by a low beep, and Pierre's eyes shot to the silver watch adorning Ben's wrist that had emitted the sound. Ben turned his arm to see the hour had clicked over on the digital display and a small red LED was lit up to one side. Looking back at his associate, Pierre turned a calculating gaze onto him.

"Nice piece." Pierre complimented in broken English as his hand slid away from his glass towards the edge of the table. "English make, no?"

One mechanical sounding click was all it took to draw silence back to the pair, Pierre stopped his hands journey and placed both palms flat against the tabletop. Ben arched one eyebrow,

"What did you tell him?" Ben repeated keeping to the French language of his character. Pierre looked down at the lighter which now lay abandoned on the tabletop in favour of the pistol held just under the edge of the table in a grip familiar with weapons of its kind. The robust man's eyes moved to where Ben's hand disappeared under the table before drifting back up to his face slowly.

"I told him he would find what he was looking for in Russia." Pierre responded tensely, once again reverting back to his mother tongue. Under the table, Ben slid the safety back on the pistol, before replacing it back at his hip. Pierre made no effort to move, Ben knew the man wouldn't take the odds of a knife versus a gun. He stood, sliding the lighter that was a hidden panic button into his pocket, picked up his drink and tossed it back in one gulp.

"Cheers for the drink." Ben threw casually over his shoulder, in broad English complete with Liverpudlian accent, as he walked away from the table, checking the incoming phone message and leaving Pierre, one unpaid bar bill and a fake 100 Euro note in his wake.

* * *

><p>Ben pulled at the collar of the white shirt he was wearing as the guard checked his passport at the immigration gate of Gatwick airport. He'd been surprised upon touchdown in London, he'd never expected it to be cooler in France than here, and the stiff collared shirt and black jacket he'd travelled in were doing nothing to relieve any discomfort in the muggy air. He took his passport and nodded his thanks to the guard before heading into the airports expansive arrivals lounge. He glanced around the room, looking for his transport that was supposedly arranged for his flight, catching glimpses of people as he did so. Woman embracing with their golden tans still lingering from sun-drenched countries and men greeted with hearty hello's and handshakes to the love ones left behind for the holistic therapy of a holiday. On the opposite end of the scale, the serious looking businessmen as they were met by drivers and contacts, greeted by no words, just reams of paperwork and files before being escorted out to posh upmarket vehicles to discuss politics and finance and God only knows what else. Ben took a step back as a large group, sporting backpacks and grins, congratulated each other jokingly about their success at being allowed into country in raucous voices before meandering along with the rest of the crowd towards the exit.<p>

As the group disappeared from the door, he spotted his ride, looking bored with a discontent expression and distracted air holding a simple piece of white paper held up in front of her. Ben started across the room with long strides, assuaging his personal reprimand that it took so long to spot the woman with the fact her hair was no longer the vibrant blonde it once was, instead it was a muddy brown and a little longer, before the thought disappeared from his mind when he was within reading distance of the makeshift sign. Ben glared at her, as she spotted him and held the sign up proudly in front of her with a look that could only mean trouble.

"Taxi for Mr Bond?" she called, attracting several bemused looks as people passed before they turned to look around the crowd. Ben quickened his pace, more conscious than ever of the fact he was in a suit as people spotted him, passing words between themselves or letting out small laughs at the woman who was now grinning manically. The name Bond printed in black marker on the paper stood out a mile off, and he approached with a raised eyebrow.

"How original." He remarked sarcastically, Sheath waggled the piece of paper at him with a smirk and Ben batted it away gently.

"April Fools."

"Very funny. You could get in serious shit for that you know." Ben replied, his own amusement wrecking the reprimand as a smile tugged the corners of his lips upwards. Sheath shrugged and screwed the piece of paper onto a ball as she pulled a set of keys from her pocket.

"You want a lift, you won't say a word." She teased, Ben laughed.

"That's blackmail."

"Not at all. It's a choice. My moment of mirth, or you taking a nice walk." Sheath responded with a grin as she grabbed his bag and made towards the door. Ben watched her back as she joined the stream of people, not willing to take the risk of the threat becoming real before following after her. He caught up to her shorter stride easily, and together they moved through most of the airport in a companionable silence. When they finally entered the car park, Sheath pushed the button on the keys and a black BMW blinked in response.

"Nice." Ben murmured as he approached the 2 series, Sheath had thrown his bag onto the back seat and climbed in the driver's side before he'd even managed to open his own. Sliding into the leather seat, Ben felt the immediate relief of the air conditioning as she turned the engine on and pulled out of the parking space.

"This your car?" he asked as he looked around the beige interior. Sheath shook her head,

"Nope company car, one of the few perks of being runaround." Sheath responded. Ben clicked his seatbelt into place, glancing at the woman. "It's not really my sort of thing."

"Seatbelt." Ben advised, Sheath rolled her eyes and muttered something that suspiciously sounded like yes mother, before clicking it into place. "And why not your type? It's a BMW, you don't get better than that."

"I prefer substance over style."

"We _are_ discussing cars here right?" Ben asked with a crooked eyebrow.

"Definitely. I'm much less fussy with men." Sheath returned easily flashing him a playful grin. Ben let out a huff of laughter that turned into a small yawn that he tried to hide behind one hand as he looked out the window, a plane pulling up from the airport runway heading for destination unknown.

"Glove compartment." Sheath stated out of the blue, Ben turned his head to see the woman looking pointedly out of the window. Ben opened the small box to see two cans of Red Bull concealed within. He took one without hesitation.

"You're a bloody lifesaver." He admitted as he popped open one can and took a long slug. For once he didn't mind the sweetness of the caffeinated fluid if it would get rid of the sleep haze. He caught her small smile, as she indicated to move over onto the ever busy M23. "How'd you know?"

"I devoured about 10 cans when I first got back." She admitted, "Didn't realise how much a cover takes it out of you."

"True." Ben agreed, not ashamed to admit he had swiftly reached the same conclusion about a week into this 2 month stint undercover. It was strange considering he would never admit when those "phantom" pains were actually real pain to his unit, but then he figured she would have seen through it if he'd lied anyway. They'd received the same perception training after all.

"Besides you've been busy. The shit you've been sending back just the last week says that much at least." She stated, Ben looked around with a surprised expression, "Demery assigned me your comm link the last few days."

"You sent the recall?"

"Yeah," she agreed. "I got pulled about a week ago, have been a general dogsbody ever since."

"That explains the smiley face at the end of the message." Ben replied simply. He didn't miss the fact she didn't sound that happy when she regarded herself as a "general dogsbody" or the fact that she'd been recalled as well. It just made his impromptu journey back all the more strange. Pierre had given him a location to work with. He should have been on a plane to Russia in his mind.

"What you thinking about?" Sheath asked, cutting the comfortable silence in two with the blunt question.

"Wondering what's going on." He admitted. Sheath nodded slowly,

"We all are. Harrison and Chord were withdrawn this week as all." Sheath explained, Ben felt a small frown move onto his face and for the first time in two months didn't bother trying to hide it. She sounded just as confused, "The rest of the guy's are being withheld as well."

"Everyone is?"

"Just our division, and Demery's been acting odd as well." Sheath responded, before she frowned, "Well, odder than usual anyway."

"You still not warmed to him?" Ben asked. He always wondered why the woman seemed to quieten around the Deputy, she'd made no secret that she wasn't his biggest fan. Ben never really understood why, though. Demery was more agreeable than most other people he had met in the establishment.

"He reminds me of someone I used to know."

"Oh?" Ben offered hesitantly,

"All that subtle information extraction training and the best prompt you can come up with is "Oh" Daniels? Dawson would be devastated." Sheath reprimanded with a teasing smile as she indicated into the next lane. Ben waited for her to settle in speed before offering his most exaggerated apologetic face.

"I'm tired." He whined when the expression garnered no response, Sheath laughed and waved her hand dismissively.

"Alright, just don't whine again. It's disturbing," Sheath responded with a distracted smile as she checked the mirrors, "And I don't know about Demery. He just plays to people."

"He's deputy head of Special Operations, Sheathy." Ben responded with a shrug taking another swig from the can, "He must have had to kiss someone's ass at some point."

"Hmm, suppose." She agreed in a murmur. Ben gave her a sceptical look and the woman shot him a mischievous smile, "I didn't think Jones would be into _that_ though."

Ben laughed, unable to stop him even if the mental image was fairly disturbing, Sheath pulled into the fast lane and relaxed back into the seat with a content look. The pair fell into a companionable silence and Ben allowed himself to doze, not quite asleep, but not quite awake either as she drove the rest of the route. A gentle nudge to his shoulder made his eyes snap open as they turned onto a familiar looking road. Ben pulled his bag from the back seat as the woman pulled the car up at the kerb and killed the engine, he gave her an expectant look.

"What?" she asked confusedly.

"Aren't chauffeurs meant to open the doors?" Ben asked with a smile. Sheath flipped him off with a roll of the eyes,

"Get out of the car or Demery will kick my ass for making you late." She responded leaning on the steering wheel.

"Demery?" Ben asked distractedly as he rooted around his bag for his passport to reclaim his security pass.

"Yeah, he's doing your debriefing." Sheath explained with a shrug, "Thought it would be Jones, but apparently it was deferred."

"Odd." Ben agreed as he pulled his passport from the bottom of his bag with a triumphant smirk, shouldering the pack and opening the door. "At least I'm dressed for the occasion. Your deranged sense of humour paid off in that respect."

"True." She agreed as he climbed from the car, she grabbed the second can of Red Bull and held it out the open door. Ben took it and the woman gave him an impish grin, "And it's easy on the eye. Everyone's a winner."

Ben responded to that with a huff of laughter and a roll of his eyes before pushing the door closed gently and heading into the Royal and General.

* * *

><p>"<em>You're sure about this?" Demery asked. Ben signed the piece of paper with a firm hand, ignoring the last minute clause Demery was offering him. He'd <em>_decided while away that he wouldn't be satisfied going back, the thoughts of France, job independence and warm welcome home had taken care of those. He never had been one to shy away from a challenge and the more he thought about returning to drills and training, the less he wanted to, regardless of the consequences. _

_That didn't stop him staring at the 21 page document as it was pulled away from him and tucked in a plastic wallet._

"_Welcome to the team." Demery stated with an appraising smile as he stood from his chair, folding the file containing the debriefing notes in two and tucking it under his arm. "You look knackered, do you want a bunk for a few hours?"_

_Ben took a moment before nodding slowly. Demery opened the top drawer and passed him a small slip of paper. "Give that to Yvonne, she'll make the arrangement. Living in Luton must be a pain."_

"_A bit." Ben admitted, the daily commute to work was either a train and tube journey away or a good two hour drive in rush hour traffic. Definitely not practical and something that would have to be sorted._

"_You look disappointed, Daniels." Demery said as he perched on the edge of the desk in a casual manner. Ben shrugged, he knew the man wasn't talking about him relenting to his insatiable curiosity._

"_Just thought there would be some sort of outcome."_

"_There has been, you provided us with information we can analyse and work with." Demery replied. Ben turned his eyes to the floor with a slight frown, Demery had hit the nail on the head, he was disappointed that he hadn't been able to form a coherent understanding of Pierre's information from start to finish. The thought another agent would be looking into the conclusion was a bit of an anti-climax as far as he was concerned, unless there was a second phase to the investigation._

"_Am I off the case?" Ben asked. Demery looked thoughtful for a second, and Ben pretty much knew the answer. _

"_I'm not going to lie." Demery stated calmly, "Jones wasn't happy with the fact you impersonated a DGSE operative. In her opinion it was "risky", the results could have been detrimental not only to yourself but also to our relationship with them."_

"_It worked though." Ben replied simply. Demery nodded with a small smile, _

"_I only said it was Jones' opinion. Not mine," he acquiesced, "Personally, I think you went with your instincts and it paid off. She also wouldn't disagree with me when I say you've done remarkably well considering your vague briefing."_

_Ben ignored the small hint of pride he felt at the words and instead nodded sagely, "But?"_

"_But, there has been a development with another line of enquiry which has prompted a larger scale investigation, which you will be involved in, if you want it."_

"_If I want it?" Ben questioned. Demery's face was blank as spoke again. _

"_There's a meeting tomorrow at 2 in the board room. I'll explain more then."_

"_Is this why division 2 are being held back?" Ben questioned, Demery looked at him through narrowed eyes before his lips tilted at the corners._

"_You don't miss a trick." Demery complimented standing from his perched position, Ben felt his own responding smile at the casual praise. "And yes it is. If certain events hadn't come to light recently, and if Pierre could have given us more to go on, I would have left you in France to carry on."_

"_Why don't you just pick him up?" Ben questioned as he stood up, mimicking the man's movement. Demery looked at him with a frown before he took a deep breath and shrugged. _

"_Pierre Augustine's body was found this morning in a dumpster behind a restaurant not far from where you had your contact."_

_Bzzzzzz_

Ben's hand groped for the bedside cabinet as the vibration from his mobile cut through his consciousness, only his hand was met with air and slowly he pulled one eye open. He stared up at the unfamiliar beige ceiling, feeling the scratchy sheets that weren't as worn in as his own against his bare legs, before remembering his acceptance of lodgings rather than travelling home. As he turned over and reach to the opposite side of the bed for his phone, he decided it was a damn good idea if how quickly he fell asleep after his debriefing was anything to go by. He pushed the answer button on his phone and rubbed his eyes with his spare hand tiredly.

"Ello?" he asked, his voice scratchy from sleep.

"_He's not going to answ-Ben?" _

"Uh huh." Ben agreed as he blinked owlishly up at the ceiling. Eagle's voice was chirpier than he could process right now.

"_How are you mate?"_ Ben went to answer before the voice continued, _"Shut up I'll ask him in a second."_ Ben presumed the second part was aimed at someone else, and stared up at the ceiling.

"I'm alright." He drawled, rotating his mouth to work out the morning muscle laziness. There was a laugh on the end of the line and Ben tried to work out what had been said.

"_Anyway, we're back. You wanna get together this week?"_ Eagle asked quickly, Ben ran a hand through his hair with a grimace and deciding to have a shower as soon as. He hummed a positive before propping himself upright on the bunk. _"What about this evening? Say seven-ish?"_

"Hmm, yeah." Ben agreed, slouching back against the pillows as he thought of all the hours before then he could sleep away.

"_Whereabouts?" _

Ben debated getting them to pick him up, before deciding it probably wouldn't be the best idea. One because he didn't think they knew of the "bank" cover and two, he really didn't want Wolf anywhere near any other agents. The man was unpredictable at the best of times.

"Costa. On Broadlands Street." Ben supplied with a yawn, Eagle said something to whoever was in the background, Ben presumed it was Snake by the accent, before the red head came back on the line.

"_Cool. Broadlands Street it is."_ Eagle agreed, Ben hummed his response again as his eyes drifted closed, trying to concentrate on Eagle's voice and not fall back asleep. A laugh caught his attention as he felt himself starting to doze. _"Were you sleeping?"_

"I _was_."

"_Lazy bastard. We're working our asses off and you're having an afternoon nap. Life is-"_

Ben sat upright quickly, "What?"

"_I said we're working our asses off, and you're spending half the day asleep. You got it easy Benny-boy."_

Ben pulled the phone away from his ear and looked at the digital clock on the display. He swore as he put the handset back to his ear, Eagle's incessant chatter still going on.

"_-lazy bum, lounging around an office-"_

"Eagle. I got to go." Ben said quickly. The voice on the other end of the line stopped, and there was a moment's pause. Ben realised how abrupt that must have sounded, and took a deep breath. "I got a meeting to go to, I didn't realise the time."

"_Oh. But tonight's alright yeah?"_

"Yeah." Ben agreed as he pushed the covers away, shivering slightly as the conditioned air reached his skin and grabbing his trousers from the chair. "Seven. Broadlands Street."

"_Yeah,"_ Eagle agreed, Ben wondered if he imagined the deflated tone, _"See you then."_

Ben didn't bother saying bye as he grabbed his shirt, that he was suddenly remarkably thankful Sheath had tricked him into wearing and throwing the handset on the bed, making a beeline for the bathroom.

* * *

><p>Ben shouldered his backpack that contained the few items he'd left at the bank prior to being dispatched three months before. The suit he had donned for the group briefing was tightly tucked away, replaced by a simple pair of black jeans and plain white t-shirt ready to head straight out to whatever the others had planned for the evening. He made one final check around the simple bunk room on the first sub level of the bank before exiting into the <em>supposedly <em>nicely decorated hallway. He walked swiftly, passing the key to the guard near the lift and taking the stairs while his mind wandered back to the briefing.

The challenge Demery had set the twenty strong group wasn't that different from his investigation in France. It still revolved around the leak, it still involved a lot of undercover work and the fact Demery himself was overseer rather than another senior agent showed its importance. But he couldn't help the things that weren't said were still the most important.

Ben looked up from his thoughts as he heard voices in front of him, he recognised them instantly and stopped short of the corner. Looking around just enough to see Sheath and Demery stood in the corridor.

"Why him?" Sheath asked quietly. Ben knew he probably shouldn't be spying, but the agitated tone to her voice had perked his curiosity and as he watched Demery, the deputies posture was completely different to what he was used to seeing. Instead of open and casual as Ben was so used too, he seemed tense, almost angry even.

"It will be good for you to test those _feminine_ charms you're supposed to have." Demery stated simply, Ben leant back against the wall, obstructing his view in favour of just listening.

"I hope to god you don't mean literally."

"Consider it a challenge, Sheath." Demery retorted, Ben could almost see the dismissive wave of the hand. "Miles underestimates you. I'm giving you the chance to show him what you can do."

There was a pause, and Ben could almost hear the cogs working in the woman's head from where he was stood a good ten metres away. He couldn't help but wonder exactly what her mission file had contained.

"Show him? Or show you?"

"Both." Demery stated simply, "You have potential, prove I was right to let you sign that contract."

"Fine."

Ben didn't doubt for a minute that the woman was angry, her snappish tone represented that, and as he heard footsteps from their direction he risked a peak around the corner to see Demery walking off without another word being said between them. Ben adjusted his backpack and arranged an innocent expression on his face before rounding the corner. Sheath twisted quickly on the spot at the sound of his footsteps, seeming to deflate when she saw him.

"Daniels." She greeted before starting to walk down the corridor, Ben watched her back before he walked forward determinedly. She gave him a sideways glance as he caught up with her and slowed his step, "Either you're particularly fond of my company, or you overheard."

"Spying Sheathy, it's kind of what we do." Ben reminded. Sheath nodded, "You alright?"

"Yeah." She said edgily. Ben gave her a sceptical look and she let out a sigh, "Just pissed I got home-based again."

"Again?" Ben asked, feeing a slight pang of remorse. He knew what it was like to want to reach full potential and being held back. It was similar to all the hours of counter-terrorism training in the SAS without having any _actual_ events to put it into practice. The woman shrugged.

"Well, look at it this way." Ben said slowly, "The stuff you'll be processing and analysing is what we'll be sent into the field to look into. We'd be bored without you."

Sheath gave him an amused smile in response, "Since when were you so positive?"

"Since I figured there's a hell of a lot more to this than running sprints and pulling triggers." Ben responded with a smile. Sheath just gave him a bemused expression, "Besides we got contracts now and there's always the next one."

"True." She agreed, not acting at all surprised at his signing up, as they passed into the lobby of the bank. The bank tellers tills rang around them as they crossed the atrium towards the double plated glass doors, and in silence the walked until they were out onto the street, away from careful ears and Ben felt his thoughts returning to the briefing.

"Did you notice anything off today?" Ben asked vaguely. Sheath looked at him with a small frown as she turned right on the pavement,

"Colson wasn't there." She stated, Ben nodded. The man's absence hadn't escaped his attention either, "I reckon he's gone."

"Gone?" Ben questioned. The woman shrugged and smiled at a couple as they passed, the smile still affixed to her face as she spoke again, a picture perfect impression of regular conversation.

"I dunno. But his notes aren't anywhere on the dispatch lists. Neither was his debriefing."

Ben said nothing but kept his stride as the woman turned onto Highland Road, a missing debrief meant only one thing. Either Colson diverged, which Ben couldn't really picture of the man who transferred from MI5 and trained with them, or he didn't come back. The thought of the man's death didn't stir as much of a reaction as Ben would have expected. He put it down to not really knowing the guy, but before he had the chance to question too much the woman beside him made a thoughtful humming noise.

"Why us do you reckon?" Sheath asked, "If this is so serious Colson's gone, why place a bunch of newbies on it."

And there it was, the question Ben himself, and he was sure numerous others of division two, were currently mulling over.

"I thought expendability." Sheath admitted, "But that doesn't really fit the profile Demery gave when he explained the system."

"No." Ben agreed, "More experience normally means more complex. The only thing I can think, is that they want inexperience to play as big a part as experience."

"Meaning they'd expect us to slip up. That's pretty risky." Sheath returned. Ben nodded and shrugged his shoulders,

"It is," Ben agreed, "But as Thompson would have said "predictability kills just as much as carelessness or routine.""

"Thompson was the epitome of the paranoid retired agent." Sheath said with a smile, "But I suppose the fact he's retired and not dead proves something."

"That we have an extremely morbid outlook on life." Ben stated with a sardonic smile. It wasn't particularly funny, but beside him the woman just laughed in response. Ben supposed it was the military style outlook on things, you had to accept that injury or death was something you had to face, right from the start when you first started training and started to think about who would be left with what if you were to die in the line of duty. Some roles just carried more risk than others.

Ben thought about the risks involved back in his "normal" job, the SAS carried a risk, there was no doubt about it, but they were well trained. He couldn't help but wonder if they were _overly_ trained when it came to the participation he'd had in assignments with his unit so far. Mentally he counted back through them, six in total, not a huge amount by most advanced units standards, and nothing as interesting as the Iranian Embassy Siege the syndicate were most noted for.

In fact, Ben could honestly say that only one had held any "real" challenge. And even then it had been a special ops briefed operation.

Ironic really, that he'd only worked two cases with special operations and already they were in the lead.

"It's different, huh?" Sheath asked thoughtfully as they approached the juncture of Highlands and Broadlands. Ben looked to her, and noted her watching him carefully, "You get this look, when you're thinking."

"You're too observant."

"Trait of the job." Sheath replied nonchalantly, as she pulled her bag open and started rooting around in it. Ben glanced down the street, before looking at his watch. He was half hour early.

"You wanna grab a coffee or something?" Ben asked quickly. Sheath looked up from her bag with a surprised look, "I got half hour to kill."

"I would, but I'm kinda meeting someone in a bit." She admitted,

"Who's the lucky guy then?" Ben asked. Sheath laughed and pulled a tube ticket from her bag with a shake of the head.

"Nothing like that, just one of the guys from my squadron."

"I thought-"

"Yeah I know, they aren't meant to know and all that bollocks." Sheath said quickly, giving him and imploring look, "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything."

"I won't." Ben agreed, the thought of his own unit appearing in his mind and their upcoming meeting. His signing on the dotted line was only tainted by how they were going to react. "How'd you tell them?"

"I only told Dex," Sheath responded simply as she threw her bag over her shoulder. "And I did so with a very big bottle of vodka."

"Helpful. Thanks." Ben remarked sarcastically. Sheath laughed and shrugged her shoulders,

"I just came out and told him I wasn't going back. I owed him that much, we'd worked together a long time." She replied bluntly. Ben nodded thoughtfully, thinking of all the years he'd known Wolf, way back from the age of 17, even though there was a rather large gap of contact at times, they'd been in touch when they could. It was strange, Ben mused to himself, that the two men he'd met only through selection a couple of years prior, took the secondment better than the man who had been on the same tour after his first kill.

"I think you got company." Sheath said quietly looking over his shoulder with a bemused expression. Ben glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough Eagle was pointing at him with a grin on his face, his mouth moving as Snake laughed, climbing out of his car that had pulled up to the kerb down the street. Ben turned back to the woman with a frown,

"They're early."

"Probably eager to see you. You SAS grunts normally travel in packs right?" she asked with a small smile. Ben let out a huff of laughter and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, Daniels, just tell them."

"What? That I'm ditching them." Ben asked waspishly, taking a deep breath to compose when the woman just gave him a stern look. Her expression changed to empathetic a second later though,

"You have a good starting point, they know _where_ you went, just not why. Think on your feet and come up with something if you don't want to tell them the truth." She responded calmly, Ben heard Eagle's words coming within earshot and for a second debated if Demery would disregard the contract, before he remembered the challenge Special Operations posed, compared to the hours of repetitive training.

"They'll get it, and if they don't, they ain't worth having around." Sheath said quietly, eyes fixed over his shoulder as Ben heard footsteps behind him. He went to respond, before he felt his head being yanked down into a headlock. He twisted his face up to see Eagle grinning at him.

"Alright Benjy?" the red head greeted, Ben scowled at the name, "Who's the broad?"

"Charming." Sheath muttered audibly. Snake moved forwards quickly.

"Excuse him M'am. He forgets his manners when he gets excited." Snake offered in his normal placid tone, tinged with the remains of Scotland. The pitch only changing as one foot kicked Eagle in the shin, causing Eagle to yelp and relinquish his grip on Ben's neck. He straightened to see her face looking amused, Ben couldn't tell whether it was from being called M'am or his units antics.

"It's fine." She responded simply, "I used to have a dog with a similar problem."

Ben let out a huff of laughter and the other three passed looks between them. Neither Wolf nor Snake looked that sure on what to do, Eagle face morphed into a faint scowl though.

"Glad to see you know how to use that mouth of yours, _sweetheart._ Now if you'll excuse us._" _Eagle responded in a tone Ben was only familiar with on duty. "Ready to go?"

Ben raised an eyebrow at the firm tone, before noticing Sheath was glaring at Eagle's back. That in itself was surprising, he'd never seen her _really_ clash with someone. To say the look was acidic was an understatement, but then Eagle could be quite patronising when he really put his mind to it. Ben offered her an apologetic look,

"Seem like quite the characters." She said quietly, as Snake, Wolf and Eagle started to walk away. The red head giving her one last minute glare over his shoulder.

"Yeah, they are." Ben agreed, he glanced over his shoulder at the three men, "Don't take it personally."

"As if I would." Sheath shrugged, "I'll see you around."

"Yeah." Ben agreed, the woman turned and started towards the entrance of the tube station. As she walked off, Ben remembered what he was going to ask before Eagle had grabbed him and called her, she turned with a confused look.

"Why did you change?" Ben asked, the question was vague enough not to be interpreted the wrong way. He knew she'd know what he was asking.

"I decided green wasn't my colour."

Ben stared at her, and she gave him a lopsided grin before Eagle's voice sounded from down the street.

"Oi! Loverboy, let's go!"

* * *

><p>Ben blinked the light haze out of his eyes as the lounge's main lights were lit up as the credits started scrolling on the screen. The takeaway tubs from their recently ordered Chinese were littered across the small coffee table, accompanied by empty bottles of beer that they'd picked up as they travelled back from London to the outskirts Croydon where Snakes three bedroom house was located.<p>

"Good film." Wolf stated as Snake got up and picked up a handful of bottles, disappearing into the kitchen. "What do you reckon? Anything like the real thing?"

Ben laughed and shook his head, "Definitely not. But it was good."

He didn't have the heart to tell them he'd rented it when it was first released before he went away, and chilled after a long days training with a beer and movie. He could only imagine the lonely old man jokes that would come out of that. Eagle looked at him with a grin,

"The women aren't that easy?" Eagle asked. Ben rolled his eyes,

"No." Ben replied, "There haven't been any around."

"Apart from the bird we saw you with this evening." Wolf reminded gesturing with his beer bottle. Ben took a deep breath, it wasn't the first time they'd bought that up. He knew it wouldn't be the last, Wolf took a swig of his beer. "Who was she?"

"Her name's Monica." Ben replied fluently, "Met her at Costa, works as a receptionist for a bank. That's all I know."

"She's not your normal type though." Wolf stated,

Ben didn't say anything but Snake smiled as he entered the room, "I didn't think Fox was particularly picky."

"Oh yeah." Wolf supplied, Ben glared at him. The man never spoke about this sort of thing, "Normally leggy brunettes."

"Or there was that Laura," Eagle provided, Ben groaned. "She was blonde and average height."

"What about that one when we first met? Can't remember her name." Snake said bending over to pick up another set of bottles, "She was a red head."

"Alright, guys I get it." Ben stated with a smile, "I'll admit I'm not particularly-"

"Odd though." Wolf continued with another swig from the bottle, "Definitely not the leggy sort. She was ridiculously short."

Ben groaned and leant back in his chair with an exasperated look,

"Couldn't have been more than what, five foot one-ish?" Snake agreed as he headed towards the door, flashing grin a teasing smile as he did so, showing it was all in good nature. Ben wondered why the Scot thought he might interpret it differently. It wasn't like it was the first time they'd decided to joke about it, being the youngest of them gave them a good excuse apparently.

"Definitely goes against the height restriction." Eagle said with a grin at his teammate, "Minimum height to ride, 5'5"."

"Unless," Wolf mused with a thoughtful look, leaning forwards in his chair, "It's because she doesn't have to be on her knees to-oomph"

Snake grabbed the beer bottle from Wolf's hand as the pillow hit him square in the face and the shorter man scowled as he threw it back with practiced ease.

"Done now?" Ben asked, catching the pillow deftly and placing it on the seat behind him. Eagle laughed and picked up his own beer,

"Luke got taken out by a pillow, sure Sarge would _love _to hear that."

"One more word, Eagle and I swear-"

"When it annoys you so? Why stop?" Eagle asked with a grin. Ben glanced at Snake as he left the room and stood up quickly. While he had no real problem sitting through yet _another_ Wolf-Eagle death match, he wanted to speak to Snake alone.

Ben looked around the kitchen as he walked through, noting, much like he head in other rooms of the house, all the things that had changed. They were small thing he would never have noticed if he hadn't helped to meticulously decorate and furnish the house when Snake first moved down South.

It had been just after Ben returned from Bangkok, the Scot had greeted him with a huge grin and a signed deed to the house clenched in one hand, and much like the other two in their unit, Ben had enthused about Snake and his wife, Marcie's, decision.

The celebration consisted of a night in a central London club, in which Snake was remarkably well behaved, Wolf was jubilant (A rare occurrence in Ben's opinion,) and Eagle, well, Eagle plied them all with one too many vodka and Red Bulls. Ben smiled to himself as he remembered Wolf's insistence he was never drinking again after that night, and the following morning they'd made their way to the newly purchased house. Snake had proudly opened the front door, only to reveal a decor that was stuck somewhere back before Ben was even born, but with muzzy heads and _more _energy drink's than he could remember, they'd made a start on clearing out the old stuff.

It took the best part of six weeks of leave, most of which Ben was _supposed _to be resting his arm, before they managed to pull the house from the 70's into something a little more respectable in modern day Britain. Back then it had been a welcome relief to be away from the unknown unpredictability and back in a situation he was familiar and comfortable with. One where Snake scolded him for trying to move _that_ piece of furniture with his arm in a sling, Eagle would paint more of himself than the walls and Wolf would threaten Eagle with a nail gun he was using for attempting to paint his face "duck egg blue".

He never told them, but it was the first time he felt _really_ involved and actually useful after getting injured.

Ben studied the kitchen, his calm blue eyes roaming from piece to piece slowly. The utensil holder and spice rack that had been a gift from Snake's mother-in-law as a housewarming gift was gone. The corkboard that once held a portrait of the Scot and his family, along with receipts and a pin up shopping pad were also missing. The alphabet fridge magnets that Eagle had re-arranged into more than one swear word, with Ben's encouragement, were no longer stuck to the silver fronted appliance.

All this plus the small things he'd noted in other areas, the black framed mirror in the hall, the contemporary black vase that was on the window sill of the lounge, the shoe rack now tucked neatly under the stairs rather than the mound of footwear by the front door, none of it fit with what Ben remembered of his last visit.

He walked out through the kitchen door onto the ribbed decking that overlooked the small grass garden to find Snake leaning over the barrier, back to the door, with a cigarette dangling between his fingers. Ben walked straight over and mimicked his pose in silence, netting his fingers together and looking out over the darkened garden as he tried to figure out how to ask without seeming to pry too much.

"You never used to hesitate if you had a question, Ben." Snake stated out of the blue. Ben turned his head to see Snake staring at the bottom of the garden with a plain face. Ben shrugged,

"Things change." Ben replied, turning his eyes to the cigarette end as it glowed from the medic's inhale. "What's happened?"

"Marcie moved back to Glasgow." Snake responded calmly. Ben watched as he released a smoke ring into the air in front of him. Ben tried to act unsurprised at the news, but he hadn't known there were problems between the pair. They'd both looked happy whenever he'd seen them together, especially after Kenna and Boyd were born. Ben could still remember the smile Snake had on his face when he delivered the news of the twins arrival to them on their arduous first tour together, lifting their spirits and proudly showing them some fragment of something back home in the dusty landscape of Iran. This whole situation just didn't fit that.

"Did she say why?" Ben asked cautiously. Snake shrugged,

"Just said she missed Scotland, family and all that trollop." Snake muttered in response taking another drag on the cigarette. Ben restrained himself from asking why the medic wasn't classed as family, before the Scot let the smoke drift from his mouth in a steady stream, "Funny really that she felt she had to hide the fact it wasn't working behind an excuse."

"It wasn't?" Ben questioned. Snake shook his head and flicked his cigarette butt off to one side of the garden with a practiced hand.

"She couldn't handle me being away all the time." Snake replied nonchalantly. Ben watched him as he turned leant back against the railing. "I think Marcie was taken with the idea of being with a soldier without realising the real implications of the job."

"Maybe she thought you'd stop, after the twins were born."

"Maybe. Or maybe she thought that I'd wake up one day and decide I didn't want to do this anymore. Neither were particularly likely scenarios, you know as well as I do Ben, that once you've done this sort of job, there's no going back."

Ben hummed a response, wondering if the Medic had picked up on the fact that whenever Wolf had joked about Special Operations he'd gone quiet, or whenever Eagle had started talking about another SAS operative whose name Ben didn't recognise he'd laughed along at the red heads humorous story anyway. Snake really was the most perceptive of them and Ben wondered why he'd had never been approached by Special Operations, or maybe he had and decided it was best left unsaid. Either way, Ben couldn't escape the nagging feeling that the blonde knew.

Right now thought, only one question pushed to the front of his mind, "You're alright though?"

"Yeah." Snake replied with a slight amused tone, "A couple of months is long enough to realise that shit happens and life goes on."

"A couple of months?" Ben echoed. Snake nodded, "Why didn't you call?"

"I tried. Well, Eagle tried. Just got a voicemail." Snake replied honestly, "'Tis alright though, we figured you were probably busy."

Ben felt the first tendrils of guilt for his missing presence and fell into silence as Snake pushed himself off the banister and started back towards the house. Ben couldn't help but think of the time he'd placed one call, to Wolf upon his return from Bangkok, and all three of them had turned up within an hour. He'd never said it then, but the fact they had all just been there, even though he'd gone off on his own way was more than he could have asked for.

The fact he couldn't repay the favour, really wasn't something he was proud of.

Ben turned quickly to see Snake pulling four more beers out of the fridge, he headed towards the house with hastened steps. "Quinn?"

"Hmm?" Snake asked as he started de-capping each bottle.

"I'm sorry," Ben admitted. Snake gave him a confused look, and popped the last cap with a distracted hand before obvious realisation showed on his face.

"No need. Like I said, we figured you were away and looking at how knackered you look now, we weren't wrong." Snake replied calmly, passing the dark haired man a beer and leaning against the side. Ben took a swig of the liquid and felt the bitter twang against the back of his throat. Wolf walked out into the kitchen and stopped in the door when he saw the pair, he nodded once and looked directly at Snake.

"You told him then?" Wolf asked simply. Snake nodded and passed Wolf a beer, the shortest of the group eyed Ben carefully before slouching into one of the stools at the breakfast bar. Eagle followed a minute later the spring that was in his step dying a death when he looked at Ben.

"Oh." Eagle said quietly, picking up his own beer and sitting on the side, he looked at Snake. "Did you tell him? Or did he guess?"

"Bit of both." Snake admitted,

"You didn't say anything though." Eagle stated. Ben shrugged,

"Didn't really know what to say. Seemed a bit blunt to just come out with," Ben stated as he took another drink and leant against the counter. Eagle looked bemused.

"Why?" Eagle asked, Ben felt a frown move onto his face. "You used to be a right nosy sod."

"Not everyone has your sense of tact, Derek." Quinn said with a smirk. Eagle rubbed the back of his neck and turned a light shade of red as Wolf let out a huff of laughter. Ben felt like he'd missed the punchline. "By tact, I mean Eagle walking in and asking where the fuck all my stuff had gone."

"Seriously?" Ben asked, a small twitch of his lips accompanying the thought. The red head nodded slowly,

"Took me by surprise." Eagle explained quickly, "But it's all cool, he won't get that much stuff in one room at ours anyway."

"What?" Ben questioned immediately, not giving himself to mull over the thought. Wolf gave Eagle a glare and the man responded with a sheepish smile. Snake placed his beer down on the side,

"I hadn't told him that part yet." Snake admitted. He looked at Ben, "I'm moving in with the guys. There's no point staying somewhere this big if it's just me."

This time Ben definitely felt out of the loop. He knew in his mind that if it was him in the same situation, they would have made the offer without a seconds hesitation. The same as he knew if he had been in the country a couple of months ago, he would have been right there banging on the door with Eagle and Wolf until Snake had opened the god-damn door.

It had never been questioned before, the routine of supporting each other when it was needed and taking a step back when it wasn't was almost an unwritten code of conduct.

It was just the way they worked.

It stayed the same whether he was there or not.

"What's happening to the house?" Ben asked curiously.

"Already sold. Whoever is moving in, got a real good price on it." Snake explained, Ben glanced around the kitchen, with its pine cupboards and cheery yellow painted walls that they'd so meticulously decorated. "Sad to see it go really."

Ben nodded his head in agreement, there was no doubt they had some good memories here. He took a swig from his drink before speaking again, "You going to need a hand to move anything?"

"We got most of it sorted," Wolf stated simply, "I'm borrowing one of the guys vans to shift the furniture. But many hands and all that shit."

"Yeah. Just give me a shout." Ben agreed, Snake gave him a smile.

"Well I need to be out in a couple of weeks. The new lot want to stick a conservatory on the back or some other rubbish, so we're looking at next weekend." Snake explained, Ben felt his stomach dip.

"I'm, um, busy." Ben said slowly. Eagle smirked and leant back on the counter.

"And he said he wasn't dating her."

"I'm not." Ben insisted quickly, his tone came out firmer than he meant for it too and caused the three others to look at him warily. "I'm working."

"Oh." Eagle said quietly, his face changing from normal and cheery to slightly confused, "I thought you'd just got back."

"I did." Ben agreed, "But there's another case-"

"I thought you were just doing the one." Wolf stated bluntly. Ben sighed and took a long drink from his bottle, "Secondment right? One job at a time, as per terms of agreement."

"Yeah, normally it would be." Ben agreed, the felt of three of them watching him carefully and he fell back onto the blank face he'd used so often over the last few months to conceal the fact he was completely unprepared for this conversation. Probably even more so after Snake's news.

"Normally?" Snake echoed, Ben nodded mutely, "What's happening that makes it different?"

"I-" Ben stopped himself before he could just let his tongue go. But the question Snake had asked gave the perfect opening to tell them he'd agreed to a contract, that he had no intention of going back to the SAS. Three expectant faces awaited an answer. "I can't tell you."

"What?" Eagle asked incredulously, "You're kidding me. We're _your _unit."

"I know. And if I could I would." Ben replied, the words running free and vague now as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Wolf stared at him with a stern look, Ben felt his face set into a determined expression. "Look like that all you want Luke. I _can't _tell you."

"Alright." Snake said calmly, "You can't tell us. But do you know when you'll be back?"

Ben took a deep breath, whetting his throat with his beer as the three men passed confused looks between them and somewhere in the back of his mind a voice that sounded suspiciously like Sheath provided him the answer.

_Worked together a long time, owe them that much._

"I'm not coming back."

Ben had never seen four words cause so many different reactions. Snake just blinked in surprise, before he looked away and to the floor with a thoughtful frown. Ben could have sworn Eagle was going to yell or fall of the kitchen counter he was sat on, or maybe both. And Wolf he had never seen look so calm.

For some reason, although it was the least responsive, it was Wolf's reaction that worried him the most.

Wolf was never calm.

The silence dragged on and around him Ben felt a tension grow like he'd never known could have existed between them, or he wondered if maybe it was just him feeling it as Eagle turned his head with a curious expression.

"You're going permanent?" the red head asked. Ben nodded his eyes glancing to Wolf as the man stood up and drained the last of his drink before moving to the fridge and picking up another.

"Not surprising." Wolf admitted as he withdrew with a bottle, droplets of condensation gathering on the surface of the glass.

"It's not?" Ben asked edgily. Wolf shook his head and popped the cap with a practiced hand before leaning his back against the fridge.

"You never were a lifer." Wolf responded with a shrug. Ben stared at him,

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ben asked, feeling a slight pang of annoyance at the statement, especially considering him and Wolf had been inducted and trained at the same time. It's not like the man was an experienced veteran in relation. Wolf gave him an amused smile that did absolutely nothing to assuage that feeling.

"Even back in training you were bored shitless in a few weeks." Wolf stated. "It's hardly surprising you want to go into something a little more reckless and unpredictable."

"What you may see as recklessness, may be predicted risk Luke. It's no different to what the SAS do." Ben replied blandly, he caught the concerned look that Snake and Eagle exchanged between them as Eagle eased himself off the counter and Snake stood up that little bit straighter. Wolf just raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"If you say so." Wolf said with a shrug, "Just remember_ that_, when you open your eyes and see just how irresponsible _they _can be."

Ben bit his lip against a sharp retort. He'd had this argument with himself already, having to ease the guilt of everything he'd learnt in Bangkok, against his own job enjoyment before signing that damn piece of paper. It had been a hard fought battle that only time and experience had allowed him to overcome. It was one he wasn't willing to revisit. He placed his beer down on the counter top with a loud thud as Wolf continued.

"It's your life, kid. You _obviously_ know what's best."

Ben didn't know whether it was the patronising tone, the outright confirmation that Wolf completely underestimated him, or being called kid, something the man hadn't done since they first met, that irritated him so.

"I'm four years younger than you, Wolf and have been doing this just as long. I can make my own decisions." Ben stated neutrally, pulling on as much of the self control as he'd learnt not to give a short angry response like he once would have. There was a second's pause, before there was a flash of irritation on Wolf's face. Ben braced himself for the scathing comment the man was going to come out with, but before Wolf had a chance to speak Snake crossed the room in two quick strides.

"Alright, Luke, stop being a jerk." Snake said firmly, one hand held outright as if trying to keep the shorter man away. "It's his choice."

The Hispanic man gave the medic a disdainful look, before turning his eyes back onto Ben.

"I don't think you realise exactly what you are getting yourself into, Fox." Wolf stated tightly, in what Ben could only describe as a rather restrained manner for the normally explosive personality. He thought he'd prefer Snake to move and receive a fist to some part of his face. At least he would know where he stood then.

"We'll be there to pick up the pieces if it goes to shit, Luke." Eagle said firmly, from where he was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed across his chest. Wolf said nothing, but his eyes were locked on Ben's with an intensity the younger had never experienced.

"That's if we ever hear about it." Wolf muttered, before he sat back in the chair at the table, taking a swig of his beer without moving his gaze. Ben tore his gaze away to look at Snake as he stepped away from where he had stood between them, back towards the fridge that he leant against casually. There was a drawn out silence between them, where no words were said and it _almost_ felt like the "old days."

As Ben had learnt over the course of a year, it wouldn't last.

"So what now?" Eagle asked, breaking the peace and taking a drink from his bottle before putting it down, easing himself back up onto the counter. "Seriously, we've been mates too long for this to stop that."

"I agree." Snake stated, "It's taken me almost three years worth of bunking with you lot to actually get used to you, seems a waste to throw it away."

"Nice." Ben murmured, but he felt a tug at the corner of his lips anyway. Trust those two to patch things over with placid words and quirky humour. He ignored the fact Wolf was still staring at him in favour of shrugging when Eagle gave him a questioning look.

"Well, if Quinn is lodging with us it means we're altogether." Eagle stated slowly, "So how about we just get together for drinks once a week when we're all on leave. You can kip on our sofa so you don't have to travel back."

Ben thought the suggestion over, it would be easy enough. One phone call when he got back from an assignment should seal it. The SAS worked on a training and tour duty rota that would be easy enough to keep track of anyway. The only time that would change was if something unexpected came up.

"That could work," Ben agreed slowly, eying Wolf sceptically as Snake gave the team leader an imploring look, "And I'm looking at moving into London anyway."

"Oh?" Snake asked, turning his eyes away from Wolf's responding shrug.

"It would be more practical."

"Would you be able to afford it?" Eagle asked curiously. Ben nodded mutely, the pay rise upon induction to Special Operations would be enough to cover more accommodation in the city than the one bedroom flat he currently owned on the outskirts. "You're getting a good pay rise then."

"Yeah." Ben agreed,

"That why you took the contract?" Eagle asked curiously.

"Yeah that, and one other thing." Ben admitted. Snake gave him a curious look that Eagle reciprocated. He ignored Wolf's more sceptical one and pulled a confident and content expression onto his face.

"Go on." Snake prompted,

"The women, obviously." Ben stated with a cocky smile. Snake rolled his eyes in exasperation and Ben surrendered himself to their somewhat skewed perception of him and with it, the merciless teasing from Eagle, rather than admit what he knew was true.

Because really, how could he tell them, the people who'd kept him grounded in the ranks of the elite and provided friendship in some of the most testing of times, that he'd outgrown them and needed more than they could offer.

He could almost believe it was worth sacrificing the truth, in favour of Eagle's toast to his good fortune in "pussy-hunting" and Snake's laugh as Ben raised his bottle in good jest, if it wasn't for the look Wolf was giving him.

Ben didn't know if it was because the look was now aimed at him, or if all the perception training from Special Operations had paid off, but what he had mistakenly taken as a glare of contempt for an unknown entity during their selection two and a half years ago, was now portraying a message that was more true than anything that had left his own mouth all evening.

_You don't belong here._

But Ben didn't glare back, like he would have done at 17 when they first met, before their friendship was tainted by experience and decision. In fact, his face was pointedly blank as he raised his bottle in a silent toast, one Wolf could take as either confirmation or defiance of the silent statement. He'd firmly left the decision of their friendship up to the other man, and he didn't bother to wait for a response before heading for the lounge, and the people he _knew_ wouldn't falter, as Eagle yelled that he was making Martini's.

Shaken, not stirred, of course.


	14. Chapter 14

**Yo all! **

**Yeahhhh it's been over two years :( I'm sorry? Real life got complicated. Still here's the next part. Enjoy!**

**Remember, cookies for reviews :D**

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><p><em><em>_"__There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, that can hinder or control the firm resolve of a determined soul.__"__  
><em>

**_Ella Wheeler Wilcox_**

* * *

><p>"Prime Minister Henley has resigned from leadership today following leaked reports of financial dispute with the evasion of-"<p>

Alex crept down the stairs, peering from his vantage point by the banister to see all three of the Pleasures absorbed in the evening news. He reached a hand out for his jacket and wrapped another firmly around his keys from the bowl, silencing any noise they would make when lifting them.

He eased the door open and slipped through quickly before any draft could travel through and deceive his position to the family that were inside. There was a quiet click as the door closed and he didn't waste any time in jumping down the four steps at the front of the house and sprinting to the end of the street.

He crossed the road before he reached the end, giving the familiar white house with a red door that stood proud on the corner a wide berth. He stopped as he had done a few times since their relocation and stared at the alien curtains, illuminated by traitorous lights from the inside. He didn't need to look at the pink that now coated his old bedroom walls or the Mercedes that now sat on the drive where once a BMW or Mini had been. Since that first night, one look at the lights where there should be none, was enough to start him running.

Alex settled at his normal night time spot next to the small pond at the back of Battersea Park, his back to a tree trunk and low hanging pine branches almost obscured him from view. He'd originally looked in Hyde Park, but the location was too busy and the sound of gravel underfoot was distracting. He knew the move back to London was going to be hard. When he had seen the layout of the house in the estate agent leaflet he'd expected memories.

What he hadn't expected was the layout of the house to be exactly the same.

The day of arrival he had run up the stairs, ignoring the magnolia walls that were identical to that of the old house and he'd immediately claimed the smallest room as his own.

When questioned why he chose the smallest, he said he didn't have a lot of stuff.

He really meant it wasn't his or Jack's old room.

When they had been discussing where the newly ordered furniture would go, he offered advice. They thought he was settling in quicker than in America.

He was purposefully suggesting different places to where things had been in Ian's old house.

There was only one person who caught onto his act, and that was Sabina. She kept shooting him knowing looks and he pointedly ignored. He ignored the way she watched him every time the phone rang out in the hall and he tensed, and he especially hid the mixed emotion sigh that wanted to leave his lips when the phone was hung up and no message delivered.

She was steadily becoming a constant presence, but it was better than it had been between them. The concerned looks happened less, the constant asking if he was alright was gone and more often than not she would sit beside him, as company reading a book or watching TV when he was in no mood to talk.

And the times he was alright to chat, she reverted back to the bubbly girl he had met in Wimbledon. He noted with particular interest that it wasn't her that had changed since then.

It was him.

But that didn't stop him feeling a small amount of mirth when she cracked a particularly dirty joke or "attempted to talk to that hot guy from table 17".

The whole time though, he couldn't help but think her mannerisms, her playfulness reflected that of Jack's. He wondered how he had never noticed before, but rather than analyse the lack of realisation on his part, he decided it was a better idea not to get too attached.

It was the start of the school term when it happened, he'd been out with Tom and upon getting home he was greeted with Sabina's new boyfriend.

It wasn't jealousy on his part, he didn't feel enough hatred for that, it was more a feeling of edgy contempt and when they sat down to watch a movie together that evening, he realised he did feel some affection for her.

Not in a couples sense, and they bickered. To the point Alex would want to yell at her before withdrawing into his shell. But at the same time no one else was allowed to do that too her.

He sat eyes unseeing over the small pond in front of him, his hands clenching at his sides into fists as he remembered the conversation this evening

_"I'm sorry, Alex." Sabina whispered, he recognised the tone. He glanced at the young woman by his side. _

_"What for?"_

_"Damien." She murmured. She looked miserable, the recent break, although they were only together for a short time was affecting her more than it should have. Alex could only come to one conclusion about that, and the thought of her wandering into realms beyond simple affection made him clench his fists under his legs. _

_"I can kill him for you?" Alex offered. "Really, 23 different ways with my bare hands."_

_Sabina let out a sniffled laugh, "Are you protective of me, Alex?"_

_He didn't reply to that, instead he felt as though he'd been punched. And beside him Sabina smiled in a way Alex had seen directed more at her mother than towards him._

_"It's normal. Little brothers never take bad news well."_

It was an alien concept, and the first thing that drove him to this pond at night. And now whenever it became too much he would escape here.

The first night he told Edward he was going out with some friends to the cinema, the man didn't give him a curfew. Sabina however has sat on her spot on the sofa's and looked up at him with a small smile, when he looked he heard a voice in his mind that sounded scarily, or maybe comfortingly like Jack's.

_"I know what you are up to Alex Jonathon Rider."_

He didn't know how to take that, he wanted to run and get as far away as possible, but at the same time restrain it in chains to stop it escaping.

It was just one more contradiction he didn't know how to handle that drove him to this spot that was his, and his alone.

Alex shut his eyes and leant his head back against the trunk of the tree, listening to the sound of the water as the wind caused it to lap gently against the bank. There was a rustle and Alex creaked open one very tired eye in the direction of the noise. He sat silent for a moment and upon hearing no further noises he put it down to a fox or bird and shut his eyes again.

The sound of a siren from afar meant he almost missed the second rustle. But it was the sound of footsteps that made him open both eyes and sit up a little straighter. That was odd, he had been coming here most nights for the last 5 weeks, and in that entire time he had only ever encountered three other people.

_Could be a drunk._

Alex frowned to himself, and listened intently as the footsteps came closer. They didn't sound uneven, in fact, they sounded sure and steady. The pace was fast enough to indicate someone in a rush and Alex peered around the trunk of the tree he was sat behind. Sure enough, to his left someone was coming into his line of sight, edging their way through the trees _almost_ stealthily.

Alex watched, silent from his crouch as the man glanced left and right. He noted the way the man's back was hunched slightly as if trying to hide and he stopped in the middle of the clearing near to Alex's location.

It was strange that there was anyone out this late in this park anyway, but to get to this point required a lot of movement through woodland.

Maybe he was waiting for someone?

_Maybe you're being paranoid like before. _

Alex frowned to himself, but there was something there that wasn't before. Something he hadn't felt for a very long time.

Instinct.

He could have hit himself in hindsight, he had never felt it before when he had mistaken the janitor for a sniper. But now the twisting in his gut was definitely present.

He couldn't help the small smile that came to his lips as the feeling connected as deep as the multitude of memories he had, and he waited, watching with eager eyes as another Small sound echoed into the night. He knew from where he was sat he wouldn't be spotted, the branches were low and his tracksuit black. There was nothing to give him away as long as he didn't move.

Another thicker set man moved into the clearing and Alex moved forwards ever so slightly, he was holding his breath he realised and he let it out silently, pulling back all the old training like a worn pair of socks.

He was surprised that it was comforting to know he hadn't lost his skill.

The newer man was more confident, Alex could see it in the way he walked, his back straight and not stopping his pace until he reached the other man. Something was passed between them, and by how quickly it was shoved into the shorter man's pocket he guess it wasn't supposed to be seen by innocent eyes.

"Deal with it. He is causing problems." The taller of the two men muttered with a slight hint of an accent Alex couldn't recognise. Instead Alex took a moment to assess the shorter man, there were a lot of twitches and Alex's initial deduction was slowly being corresponded too. The man was nervous.

"Yeah." Alex knew now the man was inexperienced in whatever he was being told to do, from the fervent nodding to the shake in his hand.

"Tonight." The taller commanded in a whisper, the streaks of moonlight through the trees highlighting this hair.

"R-Right."

The newcomer walked out of the clearing without looking back, and Alex took a slow sigh of relief. He had been the immediate threat, he had carried himself with a poise that Alex had only seen in the field. He pieced the words together slowly, drawing no specific conclusions as the original man made to move from the clearing. Alex watched him go and eased himself to his feet, fully prepared to follow.

_Why are you getting involved?_

Alex stopped, half stooping in his place of hiding before he shook his head of the thought. Someone was going to get hurt. That much he was sure of, and with himself as the only witness any story of a body turning up in the Thames the next day would haunt him if he did nothing.

Alex pushed himself to his feet once the man was half way across the field and started to walk over with his hands dug into his pockets.

He tried to ignored the fact he was seeing things with a startling clarity that had been absent for the longest time.

He also ignored the small twinge of curiosity and sense of small thrill of anticipation as he followed after his target.

He wasn't doing this because he wanted too. He was doing this because someone could get hurt.

And it definitely wasn't because it he had been waiting for something, anything to distract him from the thoughts that had clouded his mind for the last year.

He shook his head of the thoughts and arranged a confident smirk on his face. It was surprisingly easy.

Nope it wasn't for any of those reasons at all.

* * *

><p>Ben Daniels looked at the warehouse he had pulled up outside of and rested both forearms on the battered steering wheel of the Ford Escort van he had commandeered. There was a single light on from the inside, the reflection was visible on the side of the next warehouse. He straightened his back, to allow the microscopic camera that was in the top button of his shirt capture the image and stream it live back to the Royal &amp; General.<p>

This had been a long assignment, and the climax had led him right back to the UK, everything he needed was in that building. Now, it was just acting his way to it and getting out too worry about.

The intelligence leak had been an absolute nightmare. Several of the agents from Demery's unit had not reported in when Ben had last checked in, something him and Sheath had predicted mere months earlier and there had been management changes of several departments. But regardless, Ben had followed this trail, under Demery's command for the last 4 months. Starting in Venezuela and gradually working his way through two continents to get back here.

Strangely though, there had been no cruel revelations this time, no thought numbing situations and thankfully no belief shattering secrets.

It was only now, after experiencing the relative freedom and free thought involved in extension field work, would he say he had no regrets signing the contract with Demery all those months ago. He'd earned his spot here, after picking through months of investigation work to pick up the trail that had gone cold in France, to eventually lead him here, fitted with a camera and an earring in his ear to transmit to MI6 with a Heckler 9mm tucked into the waistband of his jeans.

It was with one last look at the knackered vans dashboard clock that he creaked the door open and started the walk over to the building.

Ben knew he was in trouble when the door that was supposed to be holding his contact behind it stayed firmly shut and instead the cargo door of the warehouse opened. It was confirmed when three men walked in, taking no time to conceal their presence or hide the weapons they held so tightly in their grasp.

He knew he had been lulled into a false sense of security under the guise of a small time money launderer, attempting to get himself into a bigger game. The cover was too simple, as he had protested when he had been given his I.D and personal backgrounds in his most recent briefing.

He should have known better. But this was just one very big learning curve. And in the middle of the warehouse, he realised how alone he was now with no unit to cover him as he hid behind a pyramid of containers that stretched to the ceiling.

He watched with stoic blue eyes as two of the men split up, heading in opposite directions to each other at the command of one man. He knew this approach. A pincer technique, he had perfected this with his unit and wasted no time in looking upwards. He spotted the small mezzanine which he assumed housed the warehouse office, out of instinct he reached up and latched onto the stacked crates beside him.

The footsteps were echoing around the hall now with various shouts going between then men, he paid it no heed and carried on climbing. The sound of a ships fog horn caused a momentary distraction, and he glanced down to see they had penned him in a triangle formation.

It wouldn't take them long to realise where he was.

"Up there!"

The startled yell sent a burst of adrenaline through him, and the reaction was immediate to climb as fast as possible, ignoring the metal crates cutting into his hands as he swung himself up. He swore quietly to himself as the first shot rang out in the warehouse, causing a loud echoing and just urging him to move faster. He fired back in response, missing with no time to aim and just kept moving.

In this situation, one Ben had been in many times before, it was kill or be killed.

He stashed the weapon into his pocket as he approached the mezzanine. The gap was a lot wider than he thought, but there was no time to think as he took a running jump. He felt a moment of elation as his fingers caught the metal grate of the mezzanine floor, before the pain kicked in from the material cutting into his hands.

Ben heaved himself up and scrambled away from the edge, it provided some coverage at least. It didn't make the shots that rang out in the deafening space and the floor that vibrated under his feet every time a bullet connected with it any less daunting.

Ben saw one of the men running for the stairs that would lead up to the mezzanine, and the other two that had followed his course up the pyramid of crates. He fired a shot towards the men on the crates, before turning for the office to take up a defensive position. There was a low rumbling noise that wasn't there before, he turned when it grew louder. Seemingly unmanned the forklift that had been in the corner of the warehouse started to move, Ben blinked when he thought he saw a shadow run behind another set of crates to the right of the forklift.

He was pulled from his reverie as a shot ricocheted off the wall behind him and he turned to see the man on the stairs almost at his position.

It was then everything went to hell very quickly.

The forklift had travelled across the warehouse and with a loud scraping of metal on metal the precarious pyramid of containers juddered under its impact, the man running across them tripped and yelled out as he fell to his knees. Slowly the forklift seemed to win out its battle as the boxes started to fall like children's building blocks on a badly constructed tower.

But it wasn't that that bothered him, as the boxes at the base of the pyramid shifted, their resistance had changed the slow course of the forklift. Ben cursed at the trajectory, the forklift would hit the support beams for the mezzanine, and without a thought he ran away from the office and for the stairs.

It put him in a bad position, it was harder to gain a depth of perception when shooting down, and instead as Ben approached the thug that had been running up with his gun drawn he just yelled and barrelled into him, wrenching the man's arm up as the gun fired another resounding shot.

The sound inside the warehouse now was deafening, the boxes falling were creating a cacophony of sound and Ben tumbled down the two flights of stairs desperately trying to disarm how opponent. He felt an elbow thump into his side and tried to take a gasp of breath as they both came to an abrupt stop at the base of the stairs.

Ben made to push himself to his feet, feeling every knock he had taken as he had fallen, only to hear a deadly click. Stubbornly he got to his feet, before turning slowly to look at the man with a diagonal scar across his face before his eyes fixed on the barrel of the gun pointing straight at him. He spared a glance down to the man he had fallen with, bloody and bruised Ben idly wondered if this was what 10 rounds with Mike Tyson would feel like.

"Say goodnight"

Ben fixed his eyes back on the man with the scar and scowled. He wasn't going to give the man the pleasure.

Ben's heart skipped a beat as another familiar click emitted from the weapon and he shut his eyes, awaiting the bang that would be the last thing he would hear.


End file.
